A New Way to Hurt
by LostinOblivion
Summary: AU. June 2004, Ian Doyle was arrested at his Tuscan villa. August 2004, Emily Prentiss vanished without a trace. July 2008, Ian Doyle escapes from prison, and Emily Prentiss rises from the dead. Team included. Prentiss/Doyle.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Title slightly altered to avoid the purge going on at the site.  
><em>

_"So go and tell all your friends__ that I'm a failure underneath_  
><em> If it makes you feel like a bigger man<em>  
><em> But it's my heart, my life<em>_ that you're calling a lie_  
><em> I've played this game before<em>  
><em> And I can't take anymore<em>

_ I feel it coming over me_  
><em> I'm still a slave to these dreams<em>  
><em> Is this the end of everything?<em>  
><em> Or just a new way to bleed?"<em>

_New Way to Bleed, Evanescence_

July 13, 2008

Even though he'd closed the file, Hotch couldn't get the image of the dead child out of his mind.

None of them could, least of all JJ, who, despite being the most hormonally stable pregnant women he'd ever encountered, still became a bit emotional when children were hurt. She was standing in the corner of the conference room now, speaking on the phone, as the others assembled around the table. His team already looked exhausted.

The killer, or killers as he was suspecting, had executed two families two nights ago, and burnt the houses down. Only one couple had a child, but it was still a tragedy that even one kid had to die. Hotch knew it would be difficult for the team to study the child's death.

Something was telling him that there was more to this case than he was seeing. It made him uncomfortable. A sense of deep foreboding had hit him as soon as JJ handed him the file. This was one of those cases that would irrevocably change his team. He wasn't sure how, but by the time they caught the killer, his team would be changed.

He hated those cases.

JJ hung up the phone, and walked toward him, her jaw tense. "That was security at the front desk. An SIS agent is here to see us, and refuses to leave until he does. I told them to send him up." She sighed. "I'll deal with him, you work on the case."

Hotch frowned. "It's alright, I'll deal with this. Part of my job description."

Frankly, part of him just wanted her to sit for a minute. Even at 26 weeks and counting, JJ hadn't slowed down one bit. She opened her mouth, but a knock interrupted before she could speak, and a man opened the door and stepped inside. He had a stack of folders in his hand.

"SSA Hotchner?" He asked.

"Yes?"

"Clyde Easter, SIS. I think I may have some information on your current case."

Brow furrowed and frown set, Hotch gestured the man to the table. "We're listening."

The other man looked almost relieved. He nodded and sat beside Garcia, who pursed her lips in a flirty smile. Easter swallowed and looked away from him, dropping one of the files on the table.

"Tsia Mosely and Ben Correlli. He killed them three days ago, before your cases. I believe you have both of the families killed in Washington, Ron and Laura Cosenza, their son, and Frank and Kerry Fagan?"

"Yes, he killed them the same night," Hotch said.

Easter nodded. "Sean McCallister, his wife and their child. Executed in Brussels, Belgium last week. Jeremy Wolffe, killed in Paris three weeks ago." Two more folders hit the table.

"Do these people have a connection to Clear Water Securities?" Rossi asked, studying the Mosely file.

"They were spies from various government agencies, working on the same target as CWS."

"Ian Doyle." Morgan said.

"Yes, a team of five was created under Interpol to bring him down. They succeeded, and up until six weeks ago, he was in prison because of that team. As you can imagine, he's rather pissed now that he's out." Easter kept his face blank. Too blank for Hotch's comfort.

"We've only got four people here, who's the fifth team member?" He asked.

"Actually, you only have three. Correlli wasn't part of the team." He cleared his throat. "I lead the team."

"And the fifth?" Rossi repeated.

"The last folder," Reid guessed, nodding at it.

A guard seemed to fall instantly over the Easter's eyes, and he dropped contact with all of them. "I have no proof, but I believe he's also responsible for her death."

The file only made a soft slap when it hit the pile, but it may have been a stack of bricks for the weight it seemed to carry with it. Easter appeared to be struggling, as if this one was particularly painful for him.

It was Morgan who reached for the file, flipping it open. He flipped through it, and suddenly frowned, letting a page drop rapidly. "This says she's missing, not dead."

"Only because we never found a body. She disappeared in September 2004, two months after Doyle was arrested. Interpol, SIS, CIA, and even a small group of FBI agents spent months searching for her. We believe that one of Doyle's associates, Liam O'Connor, found out who she was, tracked her down, and executed her. He was very loyal to Doyle, and never trusted her."

"Who is this woman?" JJ asked, air of impatience in her voice.

"Emily Prentiss—"

"What?" Hotch abruptly cut him off, to wide-eyed looks from his team. "Ambassador Prentiss's daughter?"

"Yes." Easter, unlike the others, didn't seem surprised.

"How did she get mixed up with someone like Ian Doyle?" Surely she was no longer the rebellious college student who had no interest in authority, but he'd imagined she'd have been a socialite by now. Or a politician.

"She was CIA, part of the Interpol team I led. We put her undercover." Again Easter looked away, and his body grew tense. "She's the reason we were able to arrest Doyle."

"Hotch, how do you know this woman?" Of course, Dave was the only one brave enough to ask him.

"I know her mother, the Ambassador's security detail was my first leadership assignment. I only spoke to her daughter once. I called her to ask about a friend she had in Egypt. She told me to suck it, and then hung up." He almost smiled at the memory. That had been as interesting as that detail got.

Easter did smile, but it was restrained, almost like it hurt. "That certainly sounds like Emily."

"What was her role undercover?" Reid brought them back to the issue at hand.

"At first business colleague, she was an arms dealer, then she became his lover, and at some point, the stupid bastard actually fell in love with her. We put her under as a love interest, but…" He shook his head.

"Is there anyway he or his people could have found out her real identity?" Morgan asked, still studying the file.

"Back then, no. We were very careful, and after we pulled her out, Tsia and Jeremy arranged the death of Lauren Reynolds, her cover ID." He sighed then.

Reid was frowning. "You said "back then", has something changed now?"

"Well clearly someone betrayed my team. They're all dead."

"Except you," Rossi noted.

"I didn't betray my team."

"But you know who did," Hotch said. "Otherwise, you'd be just as interested in finding them as you are in finding Doyle."

Easter just nodded.

"You mind sharing with the rest of us?" Rossi asked.

"Jeremy Wolff."

Something wasn't fitting for Hotch. Easter shouldn't be at the FBI feeding them information. Spies don't work that way. He focused his stern glare on the Brit. "why are revealing so much classified information? And, why aren't your people, or Interpol or CIA involved in this investigation? Why haven't they taken it out of our hands?"

Easter smirked. "Scrambling to clean up this problem would involve admitting they were involved in it. And I'm the only one left, it isn't like they have much to lose."

"Why haven't they given you a security detail?" Morgan asked.

Easter looked away then, and when he looked back, his eyes were guarded again. "After she disappeared I became hell-bent on finding her, even after they all dropped the investigation, I kept searching…I suppose I became something of a pain in the ass. They aren't exactly fond of me anymore."

"So, you came to us for help."

"I can look out for myself. But…I promised her that no one would harm her." He focused intently on Morgan then. "I want to put a bullet in Doyle's forehead."

Morgan nodded solemnly, and Hotch could only assume he was thinking of his own undercover work. It was one of many things that the younger man rarely spoke about or even mentioned in passing.

"We arrest criminals, Mr. Easter. We don't execute them," he said.

"You can't capture this man, Agent Hotchner. He'll get free of your prisons as easily as he did the North Korean prison. Then he will start killing again. Execution is the only way to stop him."

Rossi held up his hands then. "How about we save discussing appropriate punishment for when we actually have him?"

Hotch's gaze didn't waver from the staring contest he had with Easter. After several minutes he finally broke it and looked at his team. "Alright, the first thing we need to do is account for everyone from your team, Agent Easter, and the team of private contractors."

Easter scoffed. "Well that's easy. My team is dead."

"Except for maybe her." Morgan waved the file on Emily Prentiss.

"I wouldn't hold your breath, Agent…And as for the private contractors, I'm not certain, we didn't really work with them. The only reason I know about them now is because I've been annoyingly persistent with my CIA contacts."

"Can you contact them now, get information on these people? We need to know if there's anyone left to protect."

"I've already contacted them; they know what's going on. They insisted their remaining people have been contacted and sent underground," he said.

Hotch nodded. "Garcia get as much background on all of these people as you can, but focus mostly on Doyle and his contacts. Dave head to the first crime scene, Reid and I will go to the second, and JJ, I need you working your contacts. We don't have much time before the next murder or Doyle disappearing, so let's work fast."

The others nodded and began to break up and head off to where they were needed. Morgan looked puzzled. "Uh, Hotch?"

"My office," he said. Then added as an afterthought. "Bring that file."

The other man's eyebrows hit his hairline, but he nodded anyway, and followed Hotch to his office.

"So, what's going on?" He asked.

Hotch nodded to the file. "I want you to profile her."

"This Emily Prentiss woman?"

"Yes. You've done undercover work, you can get into her head."

"Okay, but…why?"

"This disappearance…Easter's convinced she's dead, but that isn't the only possibility."

"You think she what? Ran away?" Morgan cinched his eyebrows skeptically.

Hotch cleared his throat. "I don't know, but I would like a picture of her state of mind after Doyle was arrested. Borrow Garcia if you need more background…and make sure to question Easter. I want to know the state of their relationship as well."

"Yeah, I got the feeling there was more to what he was saying too."

Hotch nodded. There was more to all of this than they knew right now. He sensed it the same way he'd sensed the scope of this case. That, he realized, had just become very real.

Doyle was going after the people responsible for putting him away; he may decide to go after the people trying to catch him now.

* * *

><p>Morgan was pretty impressed with Emily Prentiss. Clyde Easter, he was much less impressed with so far. The man was carrying around a mountain of guilt.<p>

Easter sat impatiently in the conference room, looking about ready to jump out of his skin. But Morgan supposed having a psychopath after you would do that. He also suspected that part of it was a desire for revenge.

"So tell me about her," he began.

Easter smirked. "There's so much to tell. Why don't you go first, let's see how good you people really are."

Morgan nodded. "Okay." He closed the file, and clasped his hands on top of the folder.

"Fluent in seven languages, top of her class at both Yale and Georgetown, where she got a BA in linguistics from the former, and MA in Psychology from the latter. Recruited to the CIA straight out of grad school at 24. Most of her file is blacked out, but she was clearly talented enough to be picked for your team, and there was a post-it in the file that said she received the Medal of Bravery. I assume you wrote that."

Easter didn't react, just continued watching Morgan, his smirk slowly beginning to fail.

Morgan sighed and pressed on. "Before college, it was much of the same. She'd attended no fewer than seven schools, and had only tutors at times, but she managed to keep straight-As, even in AP courses. Funny thing is, she had a bad habit of cutting class and at least one concerned school counselor. Clearly she went through a punk phase." He held up the yearbook photo Garcia tracked down. "I'm thinking she was a groupie for The Cure."

"Is that supposed to shock me?"

Morgan shook his head. "No, just an observation. See at first, I was thinking typical Type-A overachiever. Except, if that was the case, she'd have gone to class religiously. That was part of the need for control, and she wouldn't have gone for the punk look. Overachievers tend to be straight-laced. No, I think it was something else."

"Oh please, don't make me wait."

He snorted, and pressed on. "It was just all too easy for her. Highly intelligent, easily bored, and prone to impulsivity, that was evident in her youth. The picture that eventually developed for me though, was of a woman who had serious difficulty with relationships and emotional intimacy, was extremely guarded, and maybe even a little paranoid."

When Clyde didn't speak, Morgan continued, holding up the Interpol ID photo. "Emily Prentiss was a brilliant woman, who trusted very, very few people, and let even fewer get close."

"Not bad, Agent. But you forgot her chameleon-like ability to become anyone she needed to be."

Morgan shook his head. "No, I didn't. If you become whoever people want you to be, you never really have to let them get close…" He sighed. "But, what I want to know, is what it is you're hiding."

"I suppose it wouldn't matter if I said I wasn't hiding anything?"

"I'm guessing you had a relationship with her. How far did it go? We you lovers?"

Easter's whole face was tense, lips pressed together so hard it must have hurt.

"That's it isn't it? You sent your lover to go fuck a terrorist for a profile, and it messed with her head didn't it?" The other man didn't respond. "When she came out, she wasn't the same person, was she? She was even more distant, even more paranoid. You felt like you didn't know her anymore. This thing…it broke her."

Easter slammed a hand down on the table, but then quickly calmed himself. "You are both accurate and completely inaccurate."

"So…set me straight." He held up his empty hands in invitation.

Tension made Easter body tight, the veins in his neck bulging. He wagged a finger at Morgan. "One thing I will set you straight on, we weren't lovers. We were close, had each other's backs for a while, and in the months before she went undercover on Doyle, we began getting even closer. But neither of us wanted to go that far, we stayed friends."

"But when the assignment ended, she _was_ different," Morgan said.

"Yes, she was." He sighed. "She was…conflicted. I think she cared for him, but it was more than that, like you said."

"She was distant from you, and paranoid."

"Very much, and not only with me, Sean, Tsia and Jeremy as well."

"Then one day she was gone."

Easter froze, studied him, and his eyes narrowed. "If you're suggesting she ran away, you're mistaken. She had no reason to do so."

Morgan shook his head. He knew what uncover work was like, how it could mess with your head, and how when you came out of a long assignment, you weren't quite sure who you really were. He remembered how disconnected he'd felt, and how the paranoia and nightmares the first month out had nearly broken him. It's possible Emily Prentiss was dead, but felt it was equally possible that she'd just had enough and left.

It should have been less surprising for him then, when there was a knock at the door, and a woman he'd only seen in pictures walked into the room.

* * *

><p><em>So, this is the last of the requests I got for DoylePrentiss fics. Finally, finally. The rest of the chapters will be a bit shorter, but there will be at least double the four chapters I had estimated on my profile. I don't imagine anyone is actually disappointed by that. :)_

_Thanks for reading, and please check out the poll in my profile!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you all so much for the reviews on the first chapter. Here's the second one, and this is about the length to expect from here on out._

* * *

><p>Emily could scarcely breathe. Four years almost, and there was Clyde sitting in an FBI conference room, staring at her as if he was seeing a ghost. She supposed he was; god knew it made her spine tingle. She hadn't expected him to be here.<p>

The dark-skinned FBI agent, Derek Morgan, gathered himself first, but glanced at the photo in his hand before speaking. "We were just discussing whether you were dead or not."

"Well, I guess that argument is resolved." He smiled, and she felt a tiny bit more at ease.

"The hell it is. Where the hell have you been? I thought you were dead! Four government agencies had a six-month long manhunt for you!"

"I know, Clyde, and I'm sorry, but I needed to disappear."

"Why? I mean you were protected, Em. Doyle was in prison. Why in god's name would you have had to disappear?" His outrage had tempered to confusion and hurt, both etched painfully into the lines around his eyes.

"I will tell you that. But after Doyle is no longer a threat."

"After almost four years? You'll tell me now."

She shook her head, lips pressed together firmly. "No, I won't."

The rest of the BAU team chose that moment to pile back into their conference room, and Emily struggled to keep her hands at her sides, and her posture straight. When she had disappeared, this was the moment she feared, coming back and having to explain herself. The other moment she'd feared, Doyle returning, was already being realized. All in all, it was a shitty week.

"Well, isn't this a surprise." It came from David Rossi. The famous author and BAU legend was smirking at her as if not surprised at all.

She could piece names and personalities to faces from the intel she'd read before coming here. She still had connections and no qualms using them when needed.

"So…she's not missing?" Spencer Reid, the youngest of the team with a genius level IQ, eyed her. His long hair was tucked behind his ears, and his face twisted in confusion.

"Not anymore as it seems," Clyde said.

"I'm just going to jump into this, how close are you to catching Doyle?" Emily asked.

"Not very, I'd say. You have any insight?" JJ, the pregnant blonde, eased herself into a seat.

"Not yet. I just had a source tell me that he was back in town, and people were starting to look for me again."

"Tsia and Sean are dead, Em. Sean's family too."

Her mouth fell open, and she looked at Clyde. "What? The bastard killed Angela and Beth too?" Clyde nodded. "What about Jeremy?" She asked.

"Dead too, but don't waste any tears for him."

Still thrown by the news about Sean and Tsia, all she could do was frown. "Why? What do you mean?"

"He sold us out. Doyle offered him a lot of money for our identities."

Emily shook her head. "No, he wouldn't do that…he did?"

He nodded slowly, and then turned to the BAU team. "Did any of you learn anything new?"

"We did note one thing. He's torturing the team members, both government and private contract."

"Private contract?" She asked the Unit Chief.

"There was a privately contracted group working on the Doyle case as well. He's killed two of them already, and their families."

"Well, I did tell you he was pissed. Torture isn't beyond him," Clyde said.

"This is systemized torture, the kind people use to extract information," Reid replied.

"Well, that probably means he doesn't believe Emily is dead, and is trying to find her. Right?"

Emily looked at Clyde and nodded. "Yeah, sure."

"Since you're here, would you go over everything you know about Doyle with my team?" Aaron Hotchner asked her.

"Uh sure, of course." He nodded, and gestured Morgan out of the room with him.

* * *

><p>Not for the first time, Morgan thanked god and Garcia for the GPS tracker he'd stuck on Emily Prentiss's rental.<p>

He had started off trying to tail her after she left Quantico, but never had he encountered a more paranoid driver. She was winding through half the city, doubling back every five or ten minutes, and winding around even more. He'd eventually given up, and started to rely completely on the GPS.

They had to have been driving for almost an hour, and they hadn't gone too far from the city. Seriously, where the hell was this woman headed?

After she'd given them what she'd said was all the information she had on Doyle, Emily Prentiss had told them she was leaving and would return in the morning. This hadn't gone over very well. Hotch had reluctantly allowed her to leave with her promise that she wouldn't disappear again, at least until Doyle was caught. Easter had been far more reluctant, still desperate to know where she'd been, and why she hadn't contacted him in almost four years. Morgan couldn't really blame the guy; he'd be pretty pissed of Garcia vanished and he didn't hear from her in four years. And as close as they were, he was pretty sure Easter and Prentiss were closer, or at least had been before she'd gone under on Doyle.

She finally got on a highway going straight out of the city into Maryland. He got onto the same highway, and took the same exit for Tuxedo, MD. She seemed to drive through most of that city, before finally stopping. Morgan tapped the buttons on the GPS, and pulled up the address. He wasn't completely surprised by what he found when he got there.

It was a strip mall, and her car was parked in front of the deli on one end.

Morgan looked around the area, and decided to park at the other end of the strip mall, in front of a hair salon called, Prime Cuts. Something about that name seriously disturbed him.

He waited almost twenty minutes for her to come out. She had a bag that looked too big to be food for one person. Unless maybe she was a stress eater, but considering her occupation before she ran, he figured she probably wasn't the type. He watched her climb back into the car, start it up, and head down the street.

As he got ready to follow her again, he tried to think of another reason for the size of the bag. Maybe she got breakfast for tomorrow? Or maybe the deli had a story in it, and she got travel shampoos and stuff? That was a benign thought. He had a far less benign one from his days on the Bomb Squad. A person could find everything they needed to build a bomb at a convenience store.

Morgan had no doubt this woman was capable of building an IED from basic home goods. She was heavily trained in weapons, and certainly smart enough to figure out the chemistry. Considering her disappearing act, he thought she may also be desperate enough to do it. The truth was he had no real idea about her mental stability, but running four years ago didn't suggest good things. Despite her outward appearances.

He hung behind as she drove away, and watched on the GPS as she drove a while and stopped again. This time the address led to a motel, where her car was parked in front of door number 12. It was a small place with about a dozen rooms, and very limited amenities. He'd stayed in his share of hotels like this thanks to the Bureau and traveling for the BAU.

Morgan checked his glock, and flipped the safety off. If she had company or was building a bomb, he wanted to be prepared. As much as he wanted to give her the benefit of a doubt, he didn't know her from Adam. She was a CIA agent who disappeared without a trace or word four years ago, for reasons she wasn't sharing with anyone, including her closest friend.

He calmly knocked on door number 12.

He heard sounds of scurrying, and leaned closer. Voices. Muffled, but there was definitely more than one voice in her motel room. He knocked again, and the voices died down. The door finally opened.

Her mouth opened in surprise. "How the hell did you find me?"

"I tailed you."

"No one but Superman could have tailed me. You put a tracker on my car didn't you?"

He nodded. "Yes, we did."

"So, all that about SSA Hotchner trusting me to come back, that was bullshit on his part?" She held the door against her body, completely blocking him from seeing inside.

"Can you really blame us?" She didn't speak. "Come on, Prentiss, what's going on?"

"I was hoping to get a bit of rest, that's it."

"I heard voices in here, you aren't alone." He went to push against the door, but she'd pulled a pistol from behind her back in seconds.

Instinctively, he brought his own weapon up, so they were in a tense standoff.

"Leave, Agent Morgan. I don't want to hurt you."

"Who do you have in here? What are you hiding?"

She shook her head. "Go back to D.C."

He took a step forward, only to freeze when she cocked her gun.

"You take one more step toward this room, and I will put a bullet in your head, do you get that?"

"I'm a federal agent. You kill me, and they'll hunt you down."

"They've tried that and failed already. Interpol, SIS, and the CIA couldn't find me; the FBI hasn't got a shot in hell."

Then he heard it. A soft, child-like whimper.


	3. Chapter 3

"What the hell was that?" He demanded.

She remained tense and unmoving. "Go back to Washington, Agent Morgan. I don't want to hurt you."

"Then don't."

"You aren't giving me a choice."

"What the hell are you so desperate to hide? What made you run four years ago?" He stared straight into her eyes, and they were blank and cold. Like a psychopath's.

"Same thing that will make me put a bullet in your chest if you don't leave."

"Damn it. I can help you!" She swallowed, but otherwise didn't react. Morgan sighed. "Doyle is free, the shit has hit the fan. You are going to have to trust someone, or you won't make it."

She scoffed. "And, I should trust you? Someone I met hours ago, someone who _followed_ me, _bugged_ my car. That doesn't scream trust, Agent Morgan."

"Then trust Easter. He came to us for help. He trusts us to help you. How about you trust his judgment." When she still didn't react, he began to slowly lower his gun. "Let me help you, Emily. I can help you protect whatever or whoever your afraid for, I can keep your safe."

Her brown eyes softened, and the blankness began to fill with life again. She lowered her weapon. Prentiss bit her lip, shifted her feet and worried the nails on one hand with the other. "I will do anything in the world to keep them safe, Agent Morgan. I need to know you will too."

He had no idea who "they" were, but nodded anyway. "You have my word."

She slipped the safety back onto her weapon, and tucked it back in her pants. He did the same, sliding his Glock back in his holster. Then the very complicated ex-CIA agent pulled the door open wider and moved back. When he was inside, she fastened both locks.

"It's okay guys, you can come out now," she called, turning toward the bathroom.

The door opened, and a young boy peered out, catching her eye before moving further out, a little girl pressed protectively against him. The boy was maybe eight, with a fair complexion, blond hair and blue eyes, the opposite of the little girl he held his arm around. She was probably around three and had the same fair complexion, but possessed the dark hair and eyes not of the boy, but of Emily. She had to be the girl's mother, the resemblance was so strong, and not just in the coloring.

"It's okay," she said. "He won't hurt you."

The little girl ran toward her, wrapping her arms around her mother, and hiding her face against Emily's body. She looked at him shyly.

"It's okay, Declan. Come over here," Emily told the boy.

"Who is he?"

"He's an FBI agent, he won't hurt us."

Morgan was far too focused on the Irish lilt attached to the boy's words. It wasn't strong enough to be an accent, but present enough to be a sign of where he grew up. His eyes flew open wide as he turned to her.

"Dear god, tell me you didn't abduct that boy."

She actually rolled her eyes. "I didn't abduct either of them. Relax."

"You maybe want to explain this then?"

She sighed. "Can I at least get them started with dinner first? They need to eat."

Morgan remembered the bag, and quickly nodded. "Yeah, sorry, of course."

He watched her nudge the little girl over toward the table, and finally coax Declan, the boy, toward her. She kissed his head, and sat him next to the girl. From the bag, she pulled what had to be the healthiest roadside food he'd ever seen. Ham and cheese for Decan, PB&J for the girl, bottles of water, and fruit. The boy got a banana, but she'd had the presence of mind to ask the deli people to cut the apple up for the girl.

Once the kids were settled, she walked back over to him, and gestured toward the bed. She sat herself, her body seeming to deflate with just that action. She was tired. For some reason that surprised him.

"So?" He asked.

"Declan was barely three when I first met him. I believed that he was the son of Doyle's housekeeper, but I came to find out that that wasn't the case. He's Doyle's son."

Morgan shook his head as if to clear it. "Wait, you took your undercover assignment's child as if he was yours? Are you out of your mind?"

"It isn't that simple. I adored Declan from the moment I saw him, and when Ian told me who he really was, I knew I had to protect him, or risk letting people use him as a pawn. I couldn't let them do that, he's just a child," she said.

"So you decided to raise him? You couldn't find someone else do it?"

"I had planned on doing that, but…" She swallowed. "A couple weeks after the raid in Tuscany, I found out I was pregnant."

His mouth fell open, and he glanced at the little girl, who was happily munching on an apple slice. "The girl."

Emily nodded. "Her name is Charlotte."

"So you disappeared to raise two children in secret."

"It sounds nuts when you say it, but if anyone had found out about them…" She shook her head, her teeth dug into her bottom lip. "I couldn't let my children become pawns."

"You were trying to protect them."

"Yes."

"So, what about now?" He had no doubt that she'd continue to do whatever was necessary to protect them, including gun-down an FBI agent.

"I heard Ian got out, and I knew both he and the intelligence community would be looking for me. I wanted to help catch him before he had the chance to look for me," she said.

"And after we catch him, what? You just fade back into your secret life?" He asked.

"Well, it won't have to be secret anymore."

* * *

><p>Agent Morgan had gotten the room next door to theirs, and spent the night playing bodyguard. This after completely charming Charlotte with his antics and a few games. Declan was had opted not to join in. Instead he kept a watchful eye on his sister, as if ready to pounce on the FBI agent if Charlotte needed help. Part of Emily was a little proud of him, but another part was worried her paranoia had rubbed off on him.<p>

"Mommy, it's itchy!" Charlotte's face was twisted in a vivid frown, and she was already scratching at the wig.

"I know baby, but you need to leave it on." She was crouched, adjusting one of the pins holding it on. She kissed her daughter's cheek, and tried not to frown at the sight of her little girl as a blonde.

A knock on the door drew her attention. Declan made it there first, but she held him still while she looked out the peephole. Agent Morgan was right on time, sunglasses on against the morning light.

"Agent Morgan," she greeted.

He smiled. "Derek or Morgan, Agent sounds too formal."

"Alright, Morgan," she said, refusing to risk the intimacy of using his first name.

He was charming and very easy on the eyes, and it had been so long since Emily had been with a man. Hell, be anywhere near a man. It was be far too easy to succumb, and she couldn't afford that distraction right now.

"Whoa…what…?"

She followed his gaze toward Charlotte, who had crossed her skinny arms over her chest, and twist her face in a deep scowl. "To make her look less like me. You're taking her back to Quantico. I just have to transfer her booster seat to your car."

"Wait, I'm doing what?"

She waved him over, away from the children. "Ian will be looking for Declan, but he won't be looking for Charlotte. He doesn't know that she exists. The best way for me to protect her is to keep it that way. I'll drive with Declan, but you need to take Charlotte."

"What, you think he's watching the BAU?"

"Most definitely."

He frowned. "Do you think my team is in danger?"

Emily almost felt bad for breaking his bubble. "Yes, they are."

* * *

><p>Charlotte had put up a minor fuss at being separated from them, but Morgan managed to calm her down. Emily was very grateful. She left first and took a straight basic path to the BAU. Morgan would wind around the city, and make sure to come from a completely separate direction.<p>

At the BAU, Agent Hotchner was already in his office, speaking to someone on the phone. Clyde was in the conference room, and Emily was pleased that he was alone. They needed to have a long conversation, and she preferred to have it alone. She held Declan by the hand, her bag slung over her shoulder, and Declan had his backpack stuffed to the max. Emily knocked quietly on the door, and walked inside.

Clyde's eyes went straight from her to the eight year-old beside her. He stared at the boy until recognition hit, and then his eyes flew up to meet hers. He couldn't seem to form a sentence though, his mouth just moved uselessly.

Emily turned to her son. "Declan, go listen to your music on that couch, okay?"

She watched him walk away, then turned back to Clyde, and did what she'd wanted to do since she'd seen him yesterday. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm so sorry, Clyde. I never meant to hurt you."

His touch was hesitant at first, barely even there, but after a minute he hugged her back. It was almost as fierce as the night before she'd gone undercover. She'd been nervous to the point of stomach upset, and completely unable to stop staring at the photos of Doyle's victims. Bloody, bruised people, some with limbs twisted at odd angles, and others burnt beyond recognition.

Clyde had pulled her close, and sworn that he wouldn't let anyone harm her.

Had Emily not gone undercover, they might have been in a relationship now. They'd been building to it, almost against both their wills. But that lifestyle tended to breed tight, very intimate relationships…constant danger, constant adrenaline, constantly watching each other's backs, and disappearing into the shadows to fight another day. Late nights of planning, smoking cigarettes and sipping whiskey to take off the edge, and bullshitting about back home and why they'd ended up there. It all felt like distant memories now.

He pulled back, and his eyes weren't the same ones she remembered. They were weary, exhausted, like he'd lived a lifetime in the four years she'd been gone.

"What the hell is going on?" He asked.

"You remember Declan?"

He nodded. "The Housekeeper's boy. Why do you have him?"

Emily gnawed on her lip. "He's Doyle's son, not the housekeeper's."

She began to explain the situation, why she had Declan now, and why she'd run. Emily watched his expression shift and change as she spoke, while one of her hands picked nervously at the nails on the other. When she finally concluded her monologue, she waited nervously for him to respond.

"Did you consider giving the baby up for adoption?"

Not what she expected. Emily nodded. "I had planned on it, but as I got closer to my due date, I was more and more attached. I could feel her moving, kicking, responding to my voice and my touch. I couldn't do it, Clyde."

"So you've been in hiding all this time, raising his children?" Clyde shook his head before she could answer. "God, you actually loved him, didn't you?"

"I know you will never understand it, and I can only guess what you think of me right now, but yeah, I did care for him."

"Then I really did fail you."

Emily squeezed his hand. "Not even close. I don't regret taking that assignment, and I don't regret getting involved with Doyle. I wouldn't trade my children for anything, Clyde."

He opened his mouth, but she heard a familiar little-girl squeal instead. She turned to see Charlotte running toward her, and Morgan in the doorway holding her backpack.

Emily opened her arms, and caught her daughter, picking her up and sticking her on a hip. "Hey sweetie, did you have fun with Agent Morgan?"

She nodded, smiling but frowned quickly. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Char." She kissed the girl's cheek then turned to Clyde. "Charlotte, this is Mommy's friend, Clyde."

"Lovely to meet you," Clyde said, extending a hand to the girl. Emily was relieved to see him smiling.

She giggled. "You talk funny. Like Milo and Otis."

Emily smirked and filled him in. "Her favorite movie, the narrator is British."

"Well, if it's your favorite I think I'm flattered."

After a few more minutes of chatter, Emily sent Charlotte to sit with Declan, and had Morgan call his team into the conference room. Each one of them focused on the children as they piled in, shooting curious looks at each other and her.

She began by explaining about her children, and how keeping them safe was why she'd disappeared. None of them appeared outright horrified that she'd given birth to Ian Doyle's child, or that she had adopted his son. They seemed to just take it as information, their faces neutral. She was extremely grateful for that.

"The only way for my children to be safe is if we catch Doyle."

"We've been trying to do that," Rossi said.

"I know, but you aren't going about it the right way. You need to stop thinking like FBI profilers and start thinking like a man who's been tortured and locked away in a cage for four years."

David Rossi's eyes were burning into hers. "He's desperate."

"Yes, and angry, and ready to kill anyone who gets in his way."

"You're saying my team is in danger?" Hotch asked.

"I'm saying, Agent Hotchner, that you need to get your wife, son, and sister-in-law, and put them on a plane. Anywhere out of state will do. That, Agent Jareau, you and Detective LaMontagne need to visit your parents in Pennsylvania. Immediately."

Hotch only glared deeply, but JJ protested. "How, how do you know about Will and my parents? And Hotch's family?"

"I was risking my children's lives coming out of hiding. Do you think I'd show up here without having checked on all of you first?"

"You're saying everyone close to us and vulnerable needs to go into hiding until we get Doyle," Morgan said, and nodded to the kids. "What about them?"

"Well, I was hoping that Agent Jareau would take Charlotte with her."

JJ's mouth fell open. "Wait you want me to take your kid and go hide in PA? For how long?"

"I don't know, however long it takes us to catch him." The other woman opened her mouth to object, and Emily held a hand up. "I know it's a lot to ask, but she's safest away from me and Declan. Ian isn't looking for her, and I want to keep it that way. And, as for the length of time, the sooner we get everyone safe, the sooner we can get as ruthless as Doyle."

JJ inhaled and looked over at Charlotte, who was still in the blonde wig, and pressed up against Declan, watching a movie. They each had a headphone in an ear, and she was giggling at something. Declan was barely paying attention to the movie, his eyes focused on them. Finally, the media liaison nodded. "Is she potty-trained?"

"Yep, has been for eight months now."

"Okay…but what are you going to do with Declan?"

Emily turned to Morgan then. "Would you take Declan and Ms. Garcia to a hotel, and play bodyguard until Ian is caught?"

He nodded. "Sure, I can do that." Then he glanced at Garcia. "You up for a slumber party, babygirl?"

Garcia grinned. "I'll bring the whip cream, you bring the handcuffs?"

"Keep it PG, mama. The kid is only eight."

"Of course, underage company. I'll grab some Disney movies, you bring the popcorn."

* * *

><p><em>So, there you have it, Emily's big secret. What do you think?<em>

_Thanks for reading!_


	4. Chapter 4

JJ was wondering what in the hell the team had gotten themselves into this time while she waited for Will to text her that he'd gotten to the BAU. He'd already told her about the bitch of a time he'd had trying to explain to his Lieutenant that he had to take a few days off, because of a top secret FBI case. Then he'd headed home to pack a bag, while she'd called her mother to explain the impromptu visit and the three year-old that was coming with them.

Hotch and Rossi had left to collect his family and get them to the airport. Judging by the deepened scowl on Hotch's face, Haley hadn't taken it well. Garcia was picking a Bureau expense account-approved hotel where they could get a suite, and Reid and Clyde were going over the profile for the hundredth time. Emily was pacing the conference room, repeatedly glancing at her children, and gnawing her poor fingernails down to nubs. Morgan was watching her, no he was studying her, like only a profiler could.

Then he stopped and walked over to JJ. "Hey, you okay?"

"This all just feels really weird."

"Not our usual is it?"

JJ shook her head. "Not even close…do you think this guy will really come after us?"

"Well, he certainly won't be coming after you, since you won't be around. But, if he's going to come after anyone, I'd say she's first on his list." He nodded his chin toward Emily.

"I don't know that woman at all, and I'm taking her child for an unknown period of time, so the girl's father—an Irish terrorist turned serial killer—doesn't find out she exists." She released a breath that came out as a low growl. "That sounds like something out of a Robert Ludlum novel."

Morgan bumped her shoulder and grinned. "I didn't know you were into Jason Bourne, JJ."

She rolled her eyes. "Will loves those movies. I'm more of a Bond-girl."

Their conversation was cut off by a beeping. JJ pulled out her phone, clicked open the text and then shut it with a sigh. "Emily?"

The former CIA spy froze mid-step and looked over at them. "Will just pulled up to the first gate."

She nodded and walked over to where the kids were sitting, still watching a movie together. Or maybe this was a second movie. JJ watched her crouch down, and pull Charlotte's attention away from the screen. Declan removed the earbuds from their ears, and closed the DVD player. She watched Emily speak calmly to her daughter, and saw the little girl's face fall a little more with every word. Charlotte launched herself at her mother, wrapping little arms around the brunette's neck. Emily held her tight, her eyes sliding shut, before pulling away minutes later.

She picked up the girl's Batman backpack, and walked over to them, holding Charlotte's hand. "Charlotte this is Miss JJ, she's going to take care of you for the next few days."

JJ did her best to crouch, and held out a hand to the girl. "Hi Charlotte, I'm looking forward to playing with you."

Charlotte plastered herself against Emily's leg. "Come on sweetie, we talked about this. JJ is a nice lady."

The little girl shook her head. "I want Mommy."

Emily shook her head and sighed. "Here's her backpack. She's a good eater, so she'll eat whatever you give her. I try to only give her sugar as an after dinner treat, and not give her any processed foods. Considering the circumstances, I'm flexible with that, but no soda, and juice only once a day. She usually takes a bath before bed, and gets a story before I tuck her in for the night. Anything with horses, she'll love. She has no allergies or medical issues, and is basically a pretty easy kid."

JJ smiled at the little girl. "You like horses?"

Charlotte nodded, but still held her arms around her mother's waist.

"Well, my mom and dad's neighbors have horses. If we ask nice, I'm sure they'll let us ride one."

Her eyes widened. "A real horsey?"

She offered an exaggerated nod. "Yep, a real one."

Tentatively, Charlotte put a hand into JJ's outstretched one. She took slight steps away from her mother, before coming to a dead halt between the two women. "Mommy is going to come?"

"No baby, I can't go with you."

The girl's eyes began to water and she shook her head. "Mommy has to come."

JJ pulled her closer before she could retreat back to Emily, but Charlotte started to wiggle and sob.

"Mommy! Mommy!" She reached out her arms as JJ held her around the middle, restraining her.

Emily, bit her lip and looked away, her hands tense at her sides, and tears in her eyes. She seemed to be forcing herself to look away as Charlotte sobbed and hollered. JJ was struggling to hold her back until Morgan scooped the girl up in his arms. She wiggled and kicked and pushed against him with her little arms, but was no match for the strong arms of Derek Morgan.

"Emily?" JJ said. "We're going to take her now…You're sure this is what you want to do?"

Finally, the ex-CIA spy turned, wiping tears from her cheeks. "I have to keep her safe."

JJ nodded, squeezed the other woman's shoulder, and headed to the parking garage with Morgan. Along the way she texted Garcia.

* * *

><p>"Oh sweetie." Garcia found their mysterious guest sitting tensely and wiping her cheeks in the conference room. Her adopted son was beside her, watching a DVD and glancing surreptitiously at his mother.<p>

The brunette looked at her. "Sorry, I'm fine…did you need something, Ms. Garcia?"

"That's the other way around, Kitten. I heard Charlotte didn't take the separation well." JJ had said that Emily could probably use a friend.

"You could say that."

"How about we grab some coffee and you take a breather?" The other woman hesitated and looked at Declan. Garcia smiled at the motherly gestured. "Declan will be perfectly safe. The building is like Fort Knox, there's a wall of armed federal agents, and then another wall of very heavily armed Marines between that boy and anyone who may want to harm him."

Emily looked at Declan for another minute, before turning back with a sniffle. She nodded. "Sure. Thanks."

Garcia smiled, and led the way to the break room. She shot a scolding look at Anderson as he eyed the visitor in the BAU, first with curiosity, but then clearly just admiring her. The tech rolled her eyes, and went about pulling out mugs and pouring the coffee. She handed a cup to Emily, and pointed her toward the fixings.

She took it and raised her eyebrows, turning it so Garcia could see the slogan on the cup. It said, "Got Muscles?"

She grinned. "I got that for Derek for his birthday last year."

"Are you and he…?"

Garcia chuckled. "No, the chocolate Adonis and I are not an item." Emily nodded and Garcia took the opening. "What about you? Did you leave a confused guy back…well, wherever you were hiding?"

The former spy snorted. "Yeah right, and try to explain my life to some poor schmuck?"

"I can see how that would be difficult."

"Understatement, but yeah. I've just been focusing on the kids."

Garcia motioned her over to a small table after she'd finished with the Splenda. "Yeah, I guess Charlotte is pretty attached."

Emily sipped her coffee. "She's never spent more than a few hours away from me."

"You don't have her in daycare while you work?"

"I do, but she only needs to be in half-time four days a week. She's full time on Tuesdays only. And the daycare is part of her routine. She knows her teachers and the other children, how the day is supposed to go, and when I'm coming to get her. This…I just sent my baby off with a woman she met only hours a go, a woman I only met yesterday, and this after dragging her across the country." She shook her head, and Garcia could see the silent admonishment in her eyes.

"Well, you don't have to worry about JJ; she's as beautiful inside as she is out. And Will is a sweetheart. Your little girl is in good hands."

Emily's eyes were unfocused, and Garcia could almost see the darkness swirling in them. Then brunette shook herself abruptly and nodded. "I know. Thank you, Ms. Garcia."

"Oh goodness. Call me Garcia or Penelope. No Ms. or Miss or anything like that."

It was soft and barely there, but the walking enigma that was Emily Prentiss smiled. "Sure."

* * *

><p>Morgan was exhausted and thrilled to pieces when they arrived at the hotel. There were four of them, instead of three. In what he guessed was a fit of paranoia, Prentiss had asked Reid to go to the hotel as well. He supposed he couldn't blame her, but it made him wonder how the last four years had been for her. For the kids even. Declan was rather quiet and docile for an eight year-old boy, and his face had been turned downward, eyes flat and expression blank since they left the BAU.<p>

Emily had sat with him for a short time, speaking to him, probably about what was going on. Then she'd hugged him tightly to her body, and he wouldn't have thought much of it, but she looked a bit glassy-eyed. Not having kids, he could imagine separation was hard, but this seemed like something else. Maybe the scene with Charlotte still had her emotionally raw.

They got to the door, and Morgan opened it, holding the others back with a hand. He nodded to Reid, and pulled out his weapon. He heard Reid do the same, and left him to guard Garcia and Declan while he cleared the room. Not that he expected Doyle or his compatriots to be hiding in a room they'd just picked, but Prentiss had him a little paranoid too. They'd left her standing by her rental, about to go out and talk to her local contacts.

After checking the bathroom, he popped back out. "It's clear."

"Oh thank god," Garcia said. "I really have to pee!"

Morgan chuckled as she rushed in, dragging her suitcase and purse behind her. Reid nudged Declan inside, and the kid moved listlessly to the middle of the main room. "You and Penelope will be sharing the bedroom in there, okay?"

"Where are you and Agent Reid sleeping?" He asked.

"We're going to take turns on the couch out here." He nodded to the small sofa in the sitting room. It was a small suite, and cheap enough that the Bureau accountants wouldn't bitch at them.

"We should get some food. What do you like to eat Declan?" Reid asked, dropping his bag, and searching for menus in the small desk drawer.

The kid only shrugged.

Morgan tried. "Come on, there has to be something you like that your mother won't give you often. Pizza? Burger? Tacos? Chinese food?"

Declan offered no response, so Morgan turned to Reid. "Is there somewhere with cheesesteaks in there? I've got a hankering."

The genius quickly scanned about a half a dozen phonebook menus, before shooting a victorious finger into the air. "I've got one here! Starlight Café and Diner. They do take-out."

"Nice." He looked over at Declan. "Come here and pick something out please."

Declan didn't move, but finally made eye contact. "Do they have chicken fingers?"

Reid nodded. Morgan nearly sighed in relief.

"Can you ask them for ketchup?" Declan asked.

"For chicken fingers?"

He nodded, and turned his eyes back to the floor. "It's Charlotte's favorite. She doesn't like barbeque sauce."

Morgan eyed the kid, wondering for the first time at how freaked he must actually be, and wishing they could find Doyle faster. In lieu of that, he walked over and crouched in front of the boy. "You know you'll see Charlotte in a few days right?"

He nodded. Morgan pressed on. "And your mom? You'll probably see her sooner than you think. She _is_ coming back."

Declan's eyes were filled with tears when he looked up, but it was his words that nearly knocked Morgan back. "No, she's not."

* * *

><p><em>So I got this chapter up a bit quicker, which makes me happy. I'm trying to get a lot of promised stories done right now, so I'm a bit distracted. But Doyle will appear next chapter, which I have the feeling many of you are waiting for. Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed, favorited and alerted this story!<em>

_Please check out the poll on my blog, link in my profile. Thanks!_


	5. Chapter 5

"The boy didn't know where she went?" Rossi asked.

Hotch shook his head. They were in Rossi's living room, trying to keep up with the day that just wouldn't end. Clyde Easter, who was staying with Rossi, was pacing three feet away with a fierceness that suggested a wild animal.

Suddenly, he stopped and turned to Hotch. "What exactly did Declan say?"

"That she wasn't coming back. When Morgan pressed further, he admitted that Emily as much as told him that she'd be dead in a few days."

"So she's probably going after Doyle," Rossi said, then shook his head. "That's an awful lot to lay on a kid."

"Clearly, she thought it was better than just leaving. At least he'll know that she loves him and his sister enough to die for them," Clyde said.

"Either way, that isn't our concern. We need to find Doyle before she does and her children become orphans." Hotch could understand dying to protect your child, he'd do it in a second to keep Jack safe, but it upset him to know what Declan was suffering through right now.

Rossi turned to Easter. "You know the players here better than we do. How would Emily have contacted Doyle in the past."

"Emily wouldn't have done it. Lauren would have, and both personas have a lot of contacts. I don't know most of them, and she could have gone to any of them. Or she could know something about Doyle that I don't and use that to find him. In fact I'm sure she knows plenty."

"Alright, so where would Doyle go? He's clearly got his crew back together, and he's not leaving D.C. until he finishes what he started. Where would he go here?"

Easter shrugged. "The best I can tell you is that he favors industrial areas. The buildings are large and the traffic sparse."

Rossi looked his way, but Hotch was already pulling out his phone. He was momentarily taken aback when Garcia's response wasn't jovial, bizarre or dirty. "How many areas in Washington, D.C., and the nearby parts of Virginia and Maryland are zoned for commercial and manufacturing work?"

"Uh Sir, I can tell you without moving a finger that it's going to be a lot, and frankly, a useless list unless you have more than that for me."

Hotch sighed. "Alright, submit Ms. Prentiss's description to hospitals and morgues. Like the BOLO, do not mention who she is or why we're looking for her."

"M-morgues?"

"Yes, Garcia. If we're too late, we still want her children to be able to bury her."

"Yes, yes of course. I'll do that, sir." She hung up quickly, and Hotch wondered if she'd already gotten attached to ex-CIA agent.

Rossi was watching him, carefully reading him, and reaching some conclusion in his mind. The older man sighed. "Alright, I think we need to work on profiling Emily."

"I already had Morgan work one up," Hotch said. Rossi just smiled that infuriating 'I already knew that' smile.

"What did he come up with?"

Hotch thought over the profile Morgan had handed him, and realized it could be summed up in three words. "Brilliant, but damaged."

* * *

><p>Emily didn't bother searching out her local contacts; they wouldn't be able to help her anyway. She'd have to go to Boston to find a contact familiar with Doyle. That drive wasn't in her plans, not tonight. Tonight, she headed into the city, and went to Mitchell Park. She sat on a bench in the garden section of the small local park, and waited for Doyle to show up.<p>

The night air was humid, leaving a sticky feeling on her skin, and hot enough that it matched the temperature of her mouth. It hardly felt like she was breathing. But the flowers left a sweet smell lingering, and the lighting bugs were zipping around in the air giving it a peaceful feel. With the sun was down, the dark of night at least offered the illusion of it being cool, even if it wasn't. Emily breathed deeply into her chest, and tried very hard not to think about her children.

She might be leaving them motherless after tonight. That thought sat heavily on her chest, and made the oppressive heat even more suffocating.

He made her wait and hour and a half, before finally appearing. Or rather before a hand came to rest suddenly on her back.

"Hello, Lauren." He paused. "Or should I say, Emily?"

"Hello, Ian." Emily took a slow, calming breath.

"We were sitting right here the day I asked you to move into the Villa. You always loved gardens so much."

She nodded and did probably the last thing he expected then. Emily stood up, and moved toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. "I missed you."

It wasn't a lie.

He was silent for several beats. "Not the greeting I was expecting." He pulled back, and pushed her away. "You betrayed me."

"I was doing my job."

"Oh, we both know you did a bit more than that."

"Hence the greeting." The smartass in her had a habit of picking bad times to appear.

Doyle stared at her. He lifted a hand to her face, dipped his fingers into her darker, straight locks, and seemed to examine them. Then he left the hair fall back into place. "Where's my son?"

"Safe," she said, her voice breathy.

"But where's he? I want to see him."

She swallowed. "I can't tell you that, Ian."

"Can't or won't?"

Her heart was thudding madly in her chest, but she refused to let nerves or fear show. "Both."

"You'd keep my son from me?" His head was slightly cocked, brown furrowed, though in anger or curiosity it was hard to tell. Probably both.

"He's safe, Ian. He can have a happy life, be a normal kid. He can grow up to be a doctor or a lawyer or anything where he'll never have to pick up a gun or take a life."

"The life you wanted for him," he said. "But not what I wanted. I told you, I raise warriors."

"He's not a warrior, Ian. He's an eight year-old boy."

"Not yet, but he will be."

Emily shook her head. "No, he won't."

He grabbed her wrist then, and backed her roughly into a tree. "Tell me where he is! Tell me who has him!"

Emily winced. "No."

Ian grabbed her forearms and shook her roughly. Again he slammed her into the tree, her head making contact this time with a fleshy thud. "Tell me!"

She shook her head, and it seemed to wobble it suddenly felt so heavy. "No."

Ian called to someone behind them, but Emily was struggling to control the sudden woozy feeling that came over her. Doyle let go and moved away, and Emily had to concentrate to keep herself together. She almost offered a deranged giggle when Liam appeared in front of her.

He glared at her, his mouth muscles tense, making his mustache curl a bit. She always thought his mustache looked stupid.

"Too good to be true," he said.

"Mercenary," she spit back.

He stepped closer then, grabbed her wrists roughly in one hand, and with the other gripped a wad of her hair painfully. He smiled when he pulled her head forward and thrust it back into the tree.

There was barely enough time for her legs to feel like jelly before everything went black.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you everyone for the reviews on the last chapter! <em>


	6. Chapter 6

They put the TV on in hopes of redirecting Declan's attention away from his mother, and her desperate attempts to protect him and Charlotte. The hotel had Nickelodeon, but he didn't seem to care very much. Garcia hated to see the morose expression on the little boy's face, but wasn't sure what to do. Reid was sitting at the table in the room, occasionally talking on the phone, and typing on the computer.

Leaving the two young men for a moment, Garcia disappeared into the bedroom to dig around in her bag for the movies she'd snagged from her apartment. It was fortunate that she was a huge fan of kids' movies and had a ton of them. She headed back into the attached room, and slid the DVD for "Finding Nemo" into the player.

It was by far her favorite effort by Disney/Pixar. Garcia grabbed the remote, and sat next to Declan. He actually straightened a bit when the opening scene came on, apparently more interested in the film than in whatever was on Nick. Garcia was feeling pretty satisfied with herself.

Then the shark came and ate the mother. Crap.

The tech cringed and turned to the boy. He was staring at the screen, seemingly unbothered at the event that was a bit too close to reality. It wasn't until Nemo was scooped up by the diver, and his father began to rush around in a worried tizzy that his eyes began to water. She cursed herself for not thinking her movie selection through.

"Oh sweetie, I'm sorry. This wasn't the best movie to choose."

Garcia picked up the remote to shut off the film, but Declan's hand grabbed hers and he practically shouted. "No!"

She stared at the boy open mouthed, and could feel Reid's attention suddenly shift to them. Declan looked away, sheepishly, and pulled his hands back. "Please leave it on."

"Are you sure sweetie? I have plenty of others with me…?"

"I like this one." He nodded and bit his lip, looking at his lap again, his eyes growing wet again. "Mom took me to see it in Italy. It was the first thing we did that was just the two of us."

Garcia rested a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Okay sweetie, I'll leave it on."

"Thank you," he said. Then he sniffled and looked at her. "Miss Garcia? I'm never going to see my mom again, am I?"

Her heart just about shattered. She scooted closer to the boy, and pulled him into a hug. "Honey, we are going to do everything we possibly can to make sure you get to see your mom again. I promise."

* * *

><p>Emily came too in a dark room, she tried to move her arms and found herself tied to a chair. Legs too. She whipped her head back to get her hair out of her face, and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark. Her head was throbbing.<p>

If she was able to get loose before they killed her she would repay Liam by a well-place boot heel to his balls. He always was a complete prick. At least to her, he'd hated her from day one. Part of it was that he didn't trust her, and part of it was that the boss was beginning to trust and value her more than him. He'd always been Ian's right-hand, and didn't want to share.

Of course, she had a connection to Ian that Liam never would or even could. Emily had carried and given birth to his child. She'd nourished their child from her body for 40 weeks of pregnancy and a year of breast-feeding. She'd taught, cared for, and protected Charlotte for the last four years. Emily didn't regret a minute of it.

The first time she'd held newborn Charlotte in her arms, Emily had ached for a moment with Ian. He was a psychopath and a monster who would turn his own children into killers like himself, but god help her, she wanted what every other new mother wanted. She wanted to show the father of her child the life they'd created, she wanted him to know he had a daughter, and most of all, she wanted to share that moment of awe and heart-bursting love with him.

But Ian could never know about Charlotte, not until he was taking his dying breath.

Her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, and she swung her head from side to side, studying every inch of mostly empty space. There was a covered cart off to the side, she could just barely make out the wheels on the bottom.

Then the door swung open.

"Hello, love." His voice sent chills down her spine.

The light flicked on, and her eyes shut at the brightness as she struggled to adjust again. "Ian," she said.

He stepped in front of her and smiled. "Comfortable?"

"Actually, I think your sense of hospitality has suffered over the last four years."

Ian chuckled. "Prison has a way of doing that to you." He walked over to the wall with the cart and pulled it close to her.

"Where's my ring?" He asked.

"I tossed it a long time ago." It was a lie; she kept it in her jewelry box. One day when she was old enough, she'd give it to Charlotte, proof that her father could love.

"Well, I'll give you something a bit harder to toss away." He pulled the cover off the cart to reveal a device Emily did not like the look of.

"You know I won't tell you where he is, no matter what you do to me."

Ian turned on the machine, cranked a dial up, and picked up what looked like a soldering iron. He approached her and smiled. "We'll see now, won't we?"

She swallowed as he undid the buttons at the top of her shirt, exposing her bra and the flesh of her upper chest. Ian walked behind her. The tool made a hissing noise as he pressed it into her skin.

Emily screamed.

* * *

><p>Morgan had joined them, leaving Reid and two borrowed agents to guard Garcia and Declan. They were still at Rossi's place, and he just ended a teleconference with Reid and Garcia. It was late, and Declan had been sealed off in the bedroom part of the suite, sheltered from any unpleasant information about his father, or his adoptive mother. According to Garcia he was very upset, and she doubted he was actually sleeping.<p>

Morgan wasn't surprised. He was worried about what the boy's mother had gone and done. Part of him was moved by Emily's selfless determination to protect her children. The rest of him knew what it was like to grow up with only one parent; he couldn't imagine how painful it would be to grow up without either.

And, what about Charlotte? The little girl had practically had a meltdown when they'd taken her away from her mother, what would she do if told she'd never see her mom again?

"I made contact with a source in Boston, if Doyle goes up there we should know about it quickly." Clyde came back into Rossi's dinning room, shoving his phone in his pocket.

There were open pizza boxes and half-empty mugs of coffee strewn about the table, mixed with empty plates, dirty napkins and every ounce of research they had on Ian Doyle, his victims, and Emily Prentiss. Arguably, she fit into the category of his victims. Even if she wasn't dead yet, contact with Ian Doyle had destroyed the life she'd had before she'd met him.

Morgan glanced at his watch and sighed. "Alright, it's been hours since she left the BAU. If she'd killed him, she'd have come back by now. If he'd killed her, we'd have found a body. Can we assume that Doyle has abducted her now?"

"I'd say that's likely," Rossi agreed with a nod.

"If he does, he'll be torturing her." Hotch's face was tight, a level of tense he hadn't reached since their last case in New York.

"I wouldn't be so certain about that. Doyle did truly love Lauren Reynolds. It may be hard for him to hate the woman that used to be her."

Morgan huffed. "Psychopaths can't love, Easter. They can possess and use, but they can't love."

"Then perhaps we've diagnosed him wrong."

"Regardless," Hotch interrupted, "If he isn't torturing her for revenge, he will be if he thinks he can get his son's location out of her."

"That gives us a nasty time limit," Rossi said.

Hotch turned to Morgan. "Get Garcia back. Have her run every Irish immigrant to the U.S. within the year after Doyle's arrest. Cross check it with arrest records, anything that could look like it was done in the service of an IRA splinter group or the Irish mob."

Morgan nodded and quickly dialed. A tired Penelope answered, Reid still beside her looking almost as tired. "Hey babygirl, I've got some work for you."

She instantly perked up, and stretched her fingers. "Let me have it, handsome."

* * *

><p><em>This was a bit later than I intended, but I had another story that I wanted to get posted this week. And I know there wasn't very much here, but the next chapter is going to have more action, and more EmilyIan. Thanks for reading, and thank you all so much for the reviews on the last chapter!_


	7. Chapter 7

_I know this was a bit later than usual, but I've been dealing with exams and work and sleep deprivation. It's been grand. And I'm going out of town in a couple days, so the next update will be at earliest next Tuesday. _

_Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed, I really appreciate it. _

_Thank you, Manu29 for helping me with the French translations in this chapter. They would have be grossly inaccurate without your assistance._

* * *

><p>Emily sat with her head tilted back, hoping the exposure to the air would soothe her a bit. Ian had carefully done up her shirt and disappeared minutes ago. He seemed to be pleased with the clover he'd burned into her breast, the clover that matched the tattoo on his wrist. Her head still throbbed and now her chest hurt like a sonofabitch. She didn't expect it to be easy-a nice, quick death by a bullet to the head-but she'd certainly have preferred it.<p>

At least this way gave her a chance to fight.

The door swung open again, and Ian strolled back into the room, a chair hanging from his hand. He set the chair in front of her, and sat down. "Where is my son?"

Emily met his eyes, but said nothing.

"Tell me where you've hidden my son."

She took a deep breath, and spoke calmly. "I'm looking to get into business with a former IRA captain who's gone freelance. Valhalla. But, since this is sensitive… Est ce qu'on peut parler en privé?"

He stared at her for a long while, before speaking. "Tu es pleine des  
>surprises."<p>

He'd played along. She almost sighed with relief. "Enlève moi ça."

His eyebrows rose, but he said nothing.

"Je ne peux pas te donner du plaisir avec des menottes."

Ian chuckled. "Ah, tu veux me donner du plaisir?"

"Oui." Yes, she wanted to give him pleasure, at least that would buy time.

"Et, tu n'essaieras pas de me tuer si j'enlève tes menottes?" He actually appeared amused as he asked if she'd try to kill him.

"Non, tu m'as manqué." That was neither a lie nor the truth. Part of her had missed him, and part of her had been glad to be rid of him.

Ian smiled again. Then he abruptly rose from the seat, and walked back toward the door. He opened it and called for Liam.

"You get anything out of her?" She heard Liam's gruff voice.

"No, not yet. I'm going to let her out of the cuffs. Don't be alarmed if you hear yelling, but Liam, if she steps one toe outside this door without me beside her, you put a bullet in her forehead."

"With pleasure."

He called back to her. "Did you hear that, love?"

"Loud and clear," she called to him.

The door shut, and she heard Ian walk back toward her. He carefully unlocked the handcuffs and slid them off her wrists. Emily rubbed the chaffed skin, and soon found Ian Doyle standing in front of her. He held out a hand. Swallowing, Emily took it. He helped her up from the seat, right into his arms, and before she could think, he was kissing her.

It startled her at first, but then Emily didn't resist. She let the guilt drop, and allowed the part of her that had loved him to be in control. It was the same part that let her smile instead of cringe when she saw his face in her children, and that had given her the heartache she'd felt as she'd given birth to their daughter knowing that he'd never hold her.

He paused only to grab a mangled piece of burlap from the mess in the corner, and throw it to the ground beside them. Ian kissed her again, and his hands went to her belt. She kissed him back, and allowed him to remove it. He unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, and pulled her shirt loose, so he could run his hands over her skin.

Piece by piece their clothing came off, and Emily was just as eager undressing him as he was with her. When they were both naked, his erection pressing between her legs, she did break the kiss and pull away for a moment. She needed to catch her breath, slow it down a bit. It was all too much.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"I…" she started only to falter. There was no way to say it without sounding pathetic. "I haven't been with anyone since you."

He seemed momentarily taken aback. "Careful love, I may start to believe you loved me."

Rather than respond Emily simply kissed him. That seemed to be enough for Ian, because he reciprocated, and then held her close as he lowered them both onto the burlap. It was far from the most comfortable place she'd ever had sex, but under the circumstances, it would have to do.

He pressed against her, and Emily stroked him, keeping her word and giving him pleasure. When he couldn't get any harder, she moved her hand, and angled her hips so he could penetrate. To her surprise, he was almost gentle, sliding in inch by inch, and allowing her to adjust to his size. She was wet, and took him with less discomfort than she expected after four years of celibacy. It felt familiar and new all at once, and she didn't dislike it.

Ian found her mouth again, and began to work up to a rhythm. Emily moved her body with his, her nerve endings on fire and her toes curling. As his thrusts grew harder, Emily began to feel the sensation build up, and her breath became more labored, matching Ian's. One of his hands slid over her breast, and Emily grabbed a handful of burlap as the orgasm rocked her. She moaned into his mouth, and felt his body tensing as she began to come down. He shifted one of her legs, so he slid even deeper into her, and after only a couple more thrusts, he exploded inside her, crying out for Lauren.

Neither immediately moved, and Emily hated herself a little. She'd missed being so close to him. She'd missed _him_.

* * *

><p>Hotch scowled at the photos tacked on the whiteboard. He was well aware the staring at them wouldn't net him any more information, but they were quickly running out of options. They'd moved back to the BAU for ease of working, and the hope that the harsh fluorescents would keep them awake.<p>

Boston P.D. had graciously agreed to look into the activities of the people Garcia had pulled up. There were six of them, and none of them looked more or less promising than the others. They were running quickly out of time. No, Emily Prentiss was running out of time. Two children were counting on the BAU to bring their mother home, and staring at her photo, Hotch felt like a complete failure.

Doyle's photo was tacked up beside hers. Unsub and victim side by side. It should be easy for them, considering they knew the identity of the unsub. That was usually the bulk of their job was during a case; find an identity, and apprehension would generally follow soon after. This was definitely not an ordinary case.

Ringing interrupted his thoughts, and Hotch was quick to grab his phone. He noted JJ's name, and answered. "What's wrong?"

"Hi to you too, Hotch. Why do you assume something is wrong?" Her voice wasn't joyful or amused, it was just tired.

"You should be sleeping, and you're not."

"Charlotte had a nightmare, it took me over an hour to calm her down. Will is in with her now, he has Morgan on the phone, talking to her. She seems to like him."

"A nightmare? About Doyle?"

"No, normal kiddie fears as far as I can tell. It probably wouldn't be a big deal if her mother was here." He could hear JJ sigh into the phone. "Hotch, what the hell are we supposed to do if she gets herself killed?"

He glanced briefly at the photo of the brunette, before refocusing on JJ. "Charlotte will have to learn to live without her mother, but let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Another frustrated sigh. "How is it going over there?"

"Not well."

"Well, let me know what happens."

"Of course."

There was a beat of silence, and he almost hung up. "Hotch?"

"JJ?"

"I don't want to tell that little girl that her mother is dead." Her voice was heavy and thick, as if she was holding back tears.

"As I said, let's hope it doesn't come to that." They said their good nights, and Hotch was off the phone for less than a minute before Clyde Easter burst into the room.

"Doyle is in Virginia. We have to leave now."

Hotch blinked. "How do you know this?"

"My Boston source. It seems Doyle asked him to come visit D.C. Needed a favor. My source says he's got to drive out to Centreville, but will have a location before we get out there." The Brit was speaking very adamantly, his normally careful use of the Queen's English slightly slurred from his urgency.

"You trust your source?"

Easter scoffed. "Not even a little bit. I do, however, trust his appetite for money. I'll have to make a stop to get some cash."

"You're paying him for the location?"

"You have a better suggestion?"

Hotch grimaced. He didn't, but that didn't mean he had to like this one. Fortunately, he was saved from responding by Dave walking in through the door. He had a steaming mug in his hand, and was rubbing his eyes. At the sight of them, he stopped, and all signs of tiredness vanished.

"We have a lead?" Hotch nodded to Easter, who explained the situation. Rossi gave a long sigh. "Thank god for that…where's Morgan?"

"On the phone, trying to help JJ and Will get Charlotte back to sleep. She had a nightmare," he said.

"Well, much as I hate to say it, if we don't get moving soon, that little girl is going to having a lot more nightmares with no mother to soothe them away. Can we please move?" Easter looked about ready to burst.

He shared a look with Rossi, who smiled and said, "Lead the way, Agent."


	8. Chapter 8

Rossi sat an unmarked FBI van, sipping black sludge, and waiting for Easter's contact to show up. Morgan was sitting beside him, barely contained tension rolling off him in suffocating waves. He didn't like the plan, didn't trust the source, and liked waiting as much as most people like getting a colonoscopy. Derek was afraid they were being led away from where Doyle was really holding the ex-CIA agent who'd broken his heart.

He was afraid they were sitting on their asses in Virginia, while Doyle hacked Emily Prentiss to bits back in Washington. Rossi could tell that he'd already gotten a bit attached to little Charlotte. But then, Morgan had been a soft-touch with kids the entire time Rossi had known him, tough-guy act or no.

He sighed. "Derek, if you don't relax just a little bit, the tension is going to snap your damn spine."

"I'm fine." The response was low and gruff. He wasn't fine. Obviously.

"There he is," Easter suddenly spoke from the front. He opened the van door, and shut it behind him.

His source had appeared from around a corner, glancing around in an obvious attempt to check for tails and suspicious characters. He was thin, not very tall, with dark hair, thick eyebrows, and shifty look. Rossi did not like this guy, he reminded him far too much of the snitches he'd worked back during his days as a field agent.

The man walked quickly up to Clyde, who yanked the door open and ushered him into the van. He froze at the sight of the other three men, and nearly backed out, but Easter pushed him in forcefully, knocking him over. Morgan caught the guy before he fell, and Easter hopped in behind him, and slid the door shut.

"What the hell is this shit?" The source looked at Clyde.

"Relax, they're after the same thing I am." Easter turned to them. "Gentleman, this is Jack Fahey. Would you mind showing him the briefcase?"

It was closest to Rossi, so he set it on his lap, and opened the top, to show Fahey is cash payment for information. Fahey went to reach for it, and Rossi shut it so fast, he nearly got the other man's fingers.

"Information first," he said.

Fahey sighed. "Ian Doyle has himself a little safe house, it's a warehouse. Off of Leesburg Pike and Route 609."

"How is it you came by this information?" Easter asked.

"I used to help Doyle out back in the day. He called me and asked if I could get him a, some damn medical tool, nasty thing by the sounds of it. Something about cauterizing things." He gave an exaggerated shiver.

"Did he appear injured?" Hotch asked.

Morgan was already dialing Reid to ask about the device when Fahey shook his head. "Not that I can see."

"Did you happen to notice if there was a woman there?" Rossi asked.

"No. I asked him what happen to his girlfriend, a hot, little number named Lauren. Man, she was something. The kind of woman you don't want to fuck with, but definitely want to fuck, you know what I'm saying? I introduced them, you know? Saw the sparks fly between them myself, and—"

"Enough," Easter cut him off. "What did Doyle say when you asked him about Lauren?"

"What? Oh, he uh, said something weird. I think it was something like he was expecting a reconciliation soon."

Morgan clicked his phone shut then, and turned to Fahey. "Was it a Thermal Cauterization Unit?"

Fahey nodded. "Yeah, yeah, that was the thing. The only one I could find was kind of old, from the 80's. He said it was fine. It was a bitch to find though, I don't have many contacts in D.C., it took some doing."

Derek turned to them then. "Reid said that medically, it's used to cauterize wounds. Commonly, it's used for scarification."

"Scarification?" Hotch asked, though the hesitation in his voice suggested he already had a pretty good idea of what it was.

"Oh, oh, I heard of that," Fahey said. "It's a bunch of freaks burning designs and shit into their skin."

Rossi looked at Morgan, who nodded in agreement. "Right," he said, "that sounds lovely."

Clyde thrust the suitcase into Fahey's arms. "If I find out you lied or double-crossed us, I will hunt you down and remove your testicles with a very dull, rusty knife. Understand?"

"Yeah, yeah. Jeez, no sense of humor in you. I didn't lie. That's where I delivered Doyle's little device."

"We'll see about that," Easter said, and nudged Fahey out the door, before sliding it shut. "Right then, let's go end this."

* * *

><p>Emily fastened her belt, and brushed her hair away from her face, her teeth planted nervously in her lip. Her hands were still free, and Ian was nearly finished getting dressed. If he went to cuff her again, she'd have to attack him and hope she won. If he didn't…well, she didn't know what the hell she'd do.<p>

"That was a nice treat, love. Afraid we still have a little matter to discuss though," he said.

She sighed and rested a hand against his chest, buying time, and bracing herself for what was sure to be an ugly fight. "Do you remember Declan's last birthday? It was unusually warm, and after presents and cake, we sat outside and watched him chase lightening bugs."

He nodded. "What of it?"

"I need you to know that, that moment was real, Ian. I wasn't acting, I wasn't pretending to be Lauren; it was real." She'd been curled against his chest, his arms wrapped loosely around her. It had been a beautiful, special night.

"Noted. Now, where's my boy?"

Emily swallowed, and squeezed his shoulders with both hands. Then she quickly pulled back her leg, and sent her knee straight between his legs. Almost immediately afterward, she punched him hard to the face. Ian cried out, but didn't quite go down. He collected himself easily, and Emily remembered what a good fighter he'd been.

He grabbed her and threw her into the nearby wall. Before Emily could gather herself, he grabbed her again, and threw her to the floor. "Where's my son!"

"Fuck you."

He grinned. "Already did that, love." Then he kicked her twice in the stomach.

Emily groaned and curled into herself, trying to protect her body. Ian pulled her up by her hair then, and she gasped.

"Where is he? Where's Declan!" He shouted in her face.

"He'll never be like you, Ian. He'll never be a criminal, never be a killer. I made sure of that."

The back of his hand made contact with the left side of her face, and then his palm quickly smacked the right side. "You'll tell me where he is."

"No." Emily jammed her booted foot down on top of his and he hollered.

She suddenly found herself hitting another wall, as he yelled loudly in her ear, and pulled her back so he could do it again. Emily was still panting and trying to regain herself when he pulled her back by her hair, and then threw her into the cart with the device he'd used to brand her.

Emily stood there, hanging onto the cart, and struggling to catch her breath. She used to be a better fighter, but was sorely out of shape. Her eyes landed on the branding device.

She took deep breaths, and prepared herself for a maneuver she'd have all of thirty seconds to complete successfully. She could feel Ian at her back. Emily grabbed the part that looked like a soldering iron, whirled around, and drove it into his abdomen. At the moment it slid into his body, the lights in the building went out, plunging them into darkness.

Ian released a wet, sickly groan, and hit the floor. Suddenly overwhelmed, Emily fell to her knees beside him. She heard his struggled swallowing, and labored breathing, and tears pricked her eyes. Emily crawled over to him, her knees grinding against the concrete floor, and sat down with her legs crossed.

She ignored the sounds of gunfire in the building.

"Ian?" Her voice cracked.

"You win, love."

"No, Declan wins." He gets to be a little boy. No matter what happened here today, she'd lose. She just hadn't realized it until this moment.

She'd carried his child in her body, nursed his child for twelve months, and tucked her into bed for the last three years. They were connected forever, and every time she looked at Charlotte she'd be reminded that she had loved him once. Every time she looked into Declan or Charlotte's blue eyes, she'd remember the way Ian used to look at her, eyes filled with affection, even love.

This was not winning.

Sniffling and wiping at her face, Emily pulled him up into her arms. "Close your eyes," she said, "It won't be long."

"Declan." His voice was low and hoarse.

"I'll make sure he knows that you love him." In his own twisted way, he did love his son.

They grew quiet so the only sounds were the firefight going off outside their secluded little room. Emily let her fingers slide over his cheek, down his neck, and settle at his throat, testing his pulse. It was weak. He had barely minutes.

"Ian, I need you to know something." She stroked his cheek gently, and inhaled. "After you were arrested…I found out I was pregnant."

His glazed eyes lit up with his last remaining bit of life. Emily smiled. "Her name is Charlotte. She's beautiful and spunky, and she has your smile."

He opened his mouth, but only managed a strangled breath.

The door slammed open then, booted-feet pounded in, and beams of light danced over the room. Emily ignored it all, too focused on watching the father of her children die. She watched him inhale his final breath, and felt his body go limp in her arms. She remained still for several minutes, cradling him in her arms, struggling through the sea of memories washing over her.

She had loved him.

Finally Emily shifted him from her lap, and set him flat on the floor. She was delicate and deliberate in her movements, taking great care with him. She then brought her hands up to his eyes, and shut them for the last time.

Emily looked up at Clyde and three of the BAU team members, and knew they saw the tears still hanging in her eyes.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I don't think I managed to respond to anyone, but I do appreciate each and every one. Also, there are two more chapters, both of which I think will be longer than the last few. Thanks for reading and please review!<em>


	9. Chapter 9

Emily shifted miserably in the hospital bed, careful not to tangle the IV. She'd been in for a head CT and had her ribs x-rayed. The latter confirmed nothing was broken, just badly bruised and sore. The CT results weren't in yet, or at least her doctor hadn't gotten around to bringing them in.

After Ian died, she'd stood up and barely made it to her feet before dropping in a dead faint. She come to as she was being manhandled onto a gurney by two paramedics, and had half the BAU team and Clyde staring worriedly at her. Emily had agreed only grudgingly to go to the hospital, and with the promise that someone would tell Declan that it was over and she was alive. It had been shitty to leave him with the knowledge that she'd very likely die, but Declan had always preferred the truth to comforting lies. Something Ian had instilled in him no doubt.

There was a quick knock at the door and her doctor appeared, chart in his hands. "Sandra, I've got your CT results."

"And?" She'd had to give the hospital her ID and insurance information from the last few years living under her new name, Sandra Wilkins.

"Nothing detectable was revealed by the scan, but since it was hours between your concussion and your admittance, and you sustained more than one blow to the head, I'd like to keep you for 24 hours observation."

She groaned. "Really? Is that necessary?"

"In my medical opinion, yes." The good doctor was apparently not to be intimidated by a cranky patient. "You'll be out tomorrow morning."

Emily did not comment.

"Free TV, decent food, at least for a hospital, and you get to spend all day in bed. Is that so bad?"

"Wow Doc, you sure know the way to a girl's heart."

He chuckled. "I'm going to take that as you reluctantly accepting my proposal. There's some people who've been waiting to see you, and then you should get some rest."

Emily nodded, and released a frustrated sigh after he left. She supposed she should be grateful that he was nice and had a sense of humor, but she hated hospitals and wanted to see her kids. She'd kissed them both goodbye believing it was for the last time, and now that it wasn't, she just wanted to wrap her arms around both of them.

She got half her wish when the door open, and an eager Declan flew toward her.

"Mom!" He shouted, scrambled on the bed, and wrapped his arms around her.

Emily held him tightly. "I'm okay, sweetie. It's all over now."

"Easy honey, you're mom's been through the wringer," Garcia warned him.

Declan pulled back then, and his little boy face turned serious with a frown. "He did that didn't he?"

She'd almost forgotten the bruising on her face. "I'm okay, Declan."

The boy didn't comment, but instead sunk down and curled his body up against hers. Emily pressed a kiss to his head.

Then it was time to face Clyde and the team of unhappy FBI agents. "The doctor says my brain looks good."

"Really? I can't believe any machine was strong enough to see through that thick skull of yours," Morgan said.

She rolled her eyes. "What's that cornball phrase sports teams use? The best defense is a good offense? I was giving my children the best defense I could."

"As a father, I understand the inclination, but a suicide mission isn't the way to go about it," Hotch said.

"All due respect, Agent Hotchner, you've never had Ian Doyle after your son."

Clyde walked toward her. "How many more years do you intend to take off my life, Em? Just so I know."

She smiled. "No more if I can help it."

He smirked. "Well, thank god for that."

"We would have helped. If you'd told us what you were planning, we would have helped you," Morgan insisted.

Emily pressed her hands over Declan's ears. "And Doyle would likely have killed you for it, or maybe not shown up at all."

"Well, we would have found him eventually," Reid said.

"How long were you willing to stay in that hotel and play bodyguard, Agent Reid?"

He shrugged. "As long as it took, I guess."

Emily surveyed them. "Well you're good people, and perhaps I underestimated all of you, but I just couldn't take any risks when it came to keeping Declan and Charlotte safe."

"You did underestimate this team, but we can't change what's already done. There are other things to consider though," Agent Hotchner said.

Emily nodded. "Ms. Garcia, I hate to ask you another favor, but since they won't release me, I was hoping you might look after Declan until tomorrow?"

"It's just Garica, kitten. And yes I will, he's a sweet kid and that gets me another night in the Bureau-paid for suite with room surface." She winked.

"The Bureau won't cover your room service bill, Garcia," Hotch said. She looked bummed, but shrugged.

"Thank you, Garcia," Emily said, purposefully keeping the "Ms." off. "Have any of you spoken to Agent Jareau recently?"

"She and Will are driving back tomorrow, so you'll be out of the hospital when Charlotte comes back." Agent Reid said.

Emily nodded, feeling a little bit of weight lift from her exhausted frame.

Clyde cleared his throat then. "There's also the matter of Declan's legal guardianship. If you come back on the grid…" He let it hang, the implications not needing to be spoken.

Emily's grip on her son tightened. "The paperwork for that is in Declan's backpack. All the children's legal, medical, and education documents are in there. It was never filed, but Louise Jones, Declan's guardian when he lived with Ian, signed her rights over to me three years ago. Declan is legally my son."

Hotchner looked over his team. "If there isn't anything else, we ought to let Ms. Prentiss get some rest."

They all began to nod, and offer well-wishes. Emily accepted them, but stopped Garcia. "Can I have a minute with Declan before you go?"

She smiled. "Of course." Then she turned to Declan, who was still attached to Emily. "I'll be right outside, come find me when you finish with your mom, okay?"

He nodded, and looked up at Emily. She waited for everyone to shuffle out, before speaking. "I know you can figure out what happened tonight, Declan."

"Dad hurt you, so you hurt him back." He said it so simply, a child's interpretation.

"Yeah…" Emily ran a hand over his head, and inhaled. "I need you to understand some things about your father. He was a bad man in a lot of ways, a very bad man, but in some ways he wasn't. He could love. He loved you more than anything in the world, Declan. He loved me too, and he would have loved your sister if he'd known about her."

"Then why did he hurt you? And why did you have to kill him?"

She bit her lip. It was the first indication that Declan knew she'd killed Ian. "Because he wanted raise you to be bad in the ways that he was bad, and he would have wanted that for Charlotte too. I couldn't…I love you both so much, and I don't want that for you. I couldn't let that happen. He did love you though, Declan. He just understood love differently than most people."

"Is it okay if I'm sad that he's gone?"

"Of course, it is sweetie."

"Is it okay, if I'm not?" He asked. Emily nodded, pressed a kiss to his head.

After a few minutes, she nudged Declan to go find Garcia. She was exhausted, and didn't care for the idea of her son spending all day hanging around a hospital.

* * *

><p>Only minutes after her son left, someone else showed up. Clyde.<p>

"I'm so sorry for what you went through when I disappeared, Clyde. I never meant to cause you any pain."

He nodded. "I know you well enough to know that's true. I won't tell you that it wasn't hard, or that it didn't feel like shit to believe that I'd failed at protecting you…But what's done is done, and I can't fault you for wanting to protect your children. I would have helped you go into hiding though, if you'd told me."

She slowly shook her head. "We were in such a weird place when I went under, and it wasn't any less weird when I came out. I didn't know how to tell you any of it."

He sighed. "Well, we certainly know how to make a mess of life, don't we?"

She smiled softly. "That we do…so be honest with me, Clyde. How much hot water am I in now with Interpol and the CIA?"

"Interpol doesn't know what to make of you, and since the CIA seems more pissed, they've decided to leave it up to your mother agency. I expect you'll receive a visit from them before the day is up. They are not impressed with you to say the least. Of course, you did clean up the whole Doyle escaped from prison mess, so they may feel forgiving. I wouldn't expect to get your job back though."

She shrugged. "That's alright, I don't want it back anyway."

"I didn't expect you would."

"Do you know what they're doing with Ian's body?"

"After autopsy, I suppose he'll be slotted for a pauper's grave. Why, you want to bury him?"

She nodded. "Declan and Charlotte have a right to bury their father."

"Yes, I suppose they do…I have to fly back to Britain tonight, apparently SIS has some questions, but let me know when the funeral is, I'll be happy to come back for it."

Emily smiled. Clyde had no interest in laying Ian Doyle to rest, but even after all she'd put him through, he would still have her back. "Thank you."

After he left, Emily called the Centreville morgue, and gave them her information, and promised that as soon as she picked a funeral home in D.C., she'd let them know. They'd bury him here; they didn't live here yet, but maybe soon. She missed D.C. She missed being Emily.

* * *

><p>She slept until the nurse woke her up with lunch. She expected it to be something gross, like Salisbury steak. She was pleasantly surprised to find a piece of lasagna, a cup of chopped fruit, water and pudding. At least the doctor was right about that.<p>

Of course, her lunch was interrupted by two men in suits. Her old boss from the CIA and his boss entered without knocking and came to stand at the foot of her bed.

Emily set her forkful of pineapple back on the tray, and straightened up. "Hi."

"Prentiss," Jake Thompson, her former boss greeted. "You remember Assistant Director Gillard."

Many years ago, Thompson had pulled her into Gillard's office, and told her that she was specially selected for an extended assignment profiling terrorists with Interpol. At the time, she'd been thrilled and excited.

"Of course. Sir," she greeted. They fell into silence, and when Emily was about as annoyed as she could take, she broke it. "Some disappointment I turned out to be, huh?"

They were not amused.

"We all thought you were dead, Prentiss," Thompson snapped.

"I'm sorry for that, but I had two children to protect. I did what I had to do."

"And that," he snarled. "You got knocked up by your target? What the hell were you thinking?"

She shrugged. "Thought it would be a great way to end the assignment."

"Cut the sarcasm, kid," Gillard finally opened his mouth. "You fucked up."

"All due respect Sir, I was assigned to infiltrate as Doyle's love interest. That required me to be intimate with him, and in case you missed Sex Ed in high school, there's no form of birth control that's 100 effective, 100 percent of the time."

"Sure there is, it's called abortion."

Emily took a calming breath. "Again all due respect sir, but when you get pregnant, when you find yourself carrying a child inside your body, you come and tell me how easy it is to make that decision."

He made to speak again, but Thompson stopped him. "If nothing else that child should have been given up for adoption. You should have cut all ties with Doyle after your assignment ended."

"That was the plan, but things change when you hold your daughter for the first time."

"As a father, I can understand your reluctance to give up your daughter, but did you have to adopt his son too?" Thompson was clearly the more cool-headed of the two, odd that Gillard ended up as an AD then.

"Nothing Doyle did was Declan's fault, and he is my daughter's brother, there's no reason for them not to be raised together. This is all moot anyway. It's done, you can't change that, and I clearly no longer work for you, so you really have no right to reprimand me."

"You're right," Gillard said. "You should know that you'll never work at the CIA, or anywhere in the intelligence community again."

"Sounds good to me."

He rolled his eyes and looked at Thompson. "Was she always such a smart-ass?"

"Actually, yes," Thompson said. Emily smirked.

The two men soon left, and Emily pushed her lunch tray away, no longer in the mood to eat. She was tired and cranky, and pissed that she kept having to explain why she wouldn't give up her children. It didn't matter who their father was, or how they came to be, she loved them no matter what and had no regrets about anything she'd done.

With no visitors, she had time to think. What did she do now? Did she go back to her life as Sandra, or stick around D.C. and become Emily again?

* * *

><p>"Agent Hotchner." He looked up at the voice and the knock to see Clyde Easter at his door. He'd give Penelope the day off to care for Declan, and the rest of the team had left around lunchtime, most to go home and get sleep. Hotch, as usual, had stuck around.<p>

"Agent Easter, what can I do for you?"

"I'd like to discuss Emily Prentiss."

Hotch waved him to a seat. "I wasn't aware there was anything further to discuss."

"She's quite a good profiler, don't you think?" He asked.

"She's impressive, yes." Hotch had watched her, had listened to her analysis of Doyle, and he actually thought she was quite talented.

"Be a shame to waste that talent, wouldn't it?"

Hotch studied the man, both of them appearing completely neutral. "Are you trying to sell her to me, Mr. Easter?"

The SIS Agent cracked a smile. "I am."

"May I ask why?"

"The CIA and Interpol won't have anything to do with her. Yet, this havoc was all created by an assignment they put us on. It seems a bit unfair to me."

"You feel guilty for assigning her as his love interest."

Easter kind of snorted. "Yes, well you can see why I might."

Hotch studied him. He had to know that hiring someone with Emily Prentiss's history would be challenging at the very least, especially as an agent. "I don't know that it would even be possible to hire her as an agent."

"I didn't say you had to, I'm not even sure she'd take it, having the children and all. But I do believe she'd be very valuable as a consultant."

"I'd have to think about this, and I can't guarantee anything."

"I wouldn't expect you to, I just wanted to point out her obvious worth in your line of work. This isn't speaking all from guilt, Agent Hotchner. I worked with her for four years, she's one of the best profilers I've ever encountered, and certainly one of the finest agents I've ever seen."

Hotch could easily see the sincerity he spoke with, and that meant more than anything else he'd said so far. He would seriously look at what the BAU needed, and see if her skills would fit in anywhere.

That done, the two men shook hands, and Easter disappeared, Hotch assumed back to the SIS. He could only imagine the shit storm Easter would be walking into when he got home.

* * *

><p><em>Okay, this wasn't super exciting, but it was at least long. There's one chapter left, and this story will be finished. Thanks for reading, and please review!<em>


	10. Chapter 10

True to his word, the doctor released her in the morning. Garcia and Morgan picked her up with Declan practically skipping beside them, and not letting go once he had a grip on her hand. Emily didn't mind at all.

They'd headed straight to the BAU, where Emily gave her statement to Morgan. He'd insisted on a cognitive interview and all, which she was a bit too impatient to deal with, much to his frustration. After they finished, Morgan sighed with relief, and then escorted her toward their break room, where he poured coffee for both of them.

"So, how are you holding up?" He asked, sipping his brew.

Emily shrugged. "Fine."

He stared at her, studying her for several silent and rather uncomfortable minutes. "Two days ago you kissed your children goodbye and marched to your death. Yesterday, you killed their father. And that's it, you're fine?"

"Fine," she sighed, "I'm not exactly fine. I'm tired, my head hurts, I want to see my daughter, and emotionally I'm torn between being relieved and upset. Happy now?"

"Deliriously. Seriously though Prentiss, this isn't something you're going to get over today or tomorrow or even next month. I'd bet my next five paychecks that you'll be looking over your shoulder for at least another year, maybe two, three or even five. Give yourself time and space to feel whatever your going to feel, or it's going to come back when you least expect it and bite you in the ass. Trust me."

"You speak from experience?"

He looked away and then back. "Let's just say I've had my share of shit to deal with."

Emily snorted. "You and me both."

Morgan's phone beeped then, and he pulled his phone off his belt and looked at the face. Then he smiled and looked back up at her. "Well, I can help you with one of those things you listed."

"What?"

"JJ and Will have Charlotte up in the conference room."

In less than a minute her coffee cup with in the sink, and she was halfway to the conference room with Morgan chuckling behind her. She barely had time to get in the door when she found herself holding her arms open to catch Charlotte, who was racing toward her and shrieking.

"Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! I missed you, Mommy!"

Emily lifted the little girl into her arms and held her tightly, thanking a god she wasn't even sure she believed in for letting her survive to see her children again. "I missed you too, baby."

Charlotte pulled back and began talking a mile a minute. "I got to ride on a horsey, Mommy. She was gray and white, and she liked me, and I got to feed her a carrot. And, JJ's mommy took me to see the people in the funny clothes. They had funny hats too, and all the girls wore dresses. And we went to a farm, and there was sheep and cows and, and piggies! There was piggies with their mommy. They were so little!"

"Wow," Emily said. "You sound like you had a lot of fun." Then she turned to JJ. "People in funny clothes?"

The blonde was smiling, clearly amused by Charlotte's rambling. "The Amish. I grew up about thirty minutes away from Lancaster."

"Oh, of course." She turned back to Charlotte. "You're going to grow up to be a veterinarian aren't you?"

The girl frowned. "What's a ve-ter-er-an-anian?"

"Veterinarian, sweetie. It's a doctor for animals."

Charlotte's lights lit up. "Oh, could I do that, Mommy?"

Emily chuckled. "Yes, you can do whatever you want to, Char."

And, she could. Both of them could. There would be no Ian hanging the family legacy of murder and mayhem over their heads. Emily kissed her daughter's head, surprised when she squealed and cried out again.

"Declan!" She started scrambling away so fast, Emily almost dropped her. Then Charlotte ran to her brother, who smiled and hugged her.

"Uh FYI," JJ said. "Didn't give her a drop of sugar this morning."

"Oh, that's just her being a three year-old. You'll see soon enough." Emily nodded to her bump. She walked over to the couple then, and sat beside them. "There are no words that can really express how grateful I am to you for taking care of her the last few days. I just…" Her breath caught in her throat. "There are no words."

JJ squeezed her hand. "You're welcome. I'm just relieved everything turned out okay."

Emily looked away from the other woman's pointed look. She was not used to people really giving a damn what she did with her life. Even when Clyde gave her looks like that, or less frequently Sean or Tsia, she'd never been comfortable with them.

Fortunately, her discomfort was quickly cut-off. The BAU's two senior agents appeared at the doorway, Rossi smiling at the two excited children, and Hotch nodding her out the door. She got up and looked over at the kids, before Rossi caught her eye, looked at the kids, and then nodded toward Hotch. Emily bit her lip, but did as instructed for the first time in a long time.

She followed Agent Hotchner to his office, and sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk at his gesture. Rather than risk awkward silence, Emily jumped in. "I'm very grateful to your team for protecting my children and saving my life."

His eyebrows rose. "I was under the impression that you saved your own life."

"I never would have made it out alive if you guys hadn't come when you did and taken out Liam and the others. Liam would have killed me the second I opened the door, and enjoyed the hell out of it, by the way."

"Not your biggest fan, then?"

She chuckled. "Far from it." She cleared her throat and grew serious again. "I owe your team so much, and I don't think could ever adequately repay it."

"I may have an idea of where to start," he said. "But first I have questions, like where have you been living the last four years?"

She didn't dodge or refuse to answer. "Twin Falls, Idaho. I taught at the community college."

He looked suddenly interested. "Really? What subjects?"

"Psych 101, Criminal Behavior as a Special Topics course in psychology, and then Arabic 1 and 2." She was one of maybe a handful of people in the state that could speak, read and write the language fluently enough to teach it.

Hotchner nodded. "You have a degree in linguistics or psychology?"

"Masters in psych. My B.A. in Linguistics, but I'm fluent, the only one cheap enough to hire, and my papers are fake anyway."

He cracked a smile. "Do you plan on going back there?"

She sighed. "Well, after the funeral yes, but I think I'd like to move back to D.C. now that it's safe to."

"Funeral?"

"Doyle. Whatever else he was, he was also a father."

"I wasn't judging. Just asking."

"I just expect it I guess."

Hotchner nodded. "Well, if you're interested in work, the Academy here is always looking for good instructors, and the BAU could benefit from a consultant with your expertise."

Emily opened her mouth to answer, but her thoughts just seemed to float away. Did he really just offer her a job? With everything he knew about her now? She shook her head. "I don't understand. After the last few days…why would you want me?"

"I'm familiar with your resume, you come with good recommendations, and honestly, if you're a full-time mother and working here, I can't imagine you'd have much time to get yourself into trouble."

"Did I take a few years off your life too?" She smirked.

"Not quite, but I think if you settled into domestic bliss, you'd save your friend a premature coronary." His expression was neutral as ever, but Emily could see the twinkle of humor in his eye.

This was serious though, and she sobered quickly. "How much time would be teaching, and how much would be consulting?"

"That would depend on the Academy's needs, but it might be possible to work it around your preference. Do you have one?"

She looked toward the conference room, where the nicest people in the world were watching over her children. All of whom, worked right here. Emily looked back at him. "I suppose not." She inhaled. "It's a wonderful offer, one I will seriously consider, but I need to wrap my head around it a bit, and sort things back in Idaho."

"Of course." She rose and he rose with her, accepting his outstretched hand.

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner, for everything." He nodded and Emily headed back to the conference room.

Charlotte was sitting on Morgan's lap, giggling crazily as she watched Reid perform magic tricks. JJ and Will were sitting closer together, watching with amused expressions, both with a hand on her bump. Rossi was laughing as he leaned back in a chair and watched them. Declan was huddled beside Garcia in front of a laptop, and her hands were moving around as she spoke. The boy looked captivated as he looked between her and the screen. Then he saw her.

"Mom," he called. She headed over and he grabbed her hand eagerly.

"Ms. Garcia said that she'd give me computer lessons."

"Really?" She turned to Garcia.

She shrugged. "He's so cute, and impossible to resist."

"Don't I know it." Emily ran a hand over his head. "Did you thank her?"

He nodded.

"Well, she needs a really, really big thank you. You know she's really good at what she does, right?" He nodded, but she could tell he didn't quite get it. She smiled. "Declan, getting computer lessons from Ms. Garcia is like getting soccer lessons from David Beckham."

Now he got it. His eyes widened and he turned to Garcia. "Whoa." Then he jumped up, and hugged her. "Thank you!"

"Oh, you're very welcome, sweetie."

Emily looked at her. "Just nothing illegal or semi-legal until he's 18."

The tech chuckled. "No worries, he'll probably get bored and be into girls before we get to that level."

Now it was Emily's turn to chuckle. "Oh, you don't know my son."

* * *

><p>Emily sipped her iced tea, and worried her nails, her hands hidden under the little café table. It had an outdoor section, but she was seated inside where the air conditioning kept the temperature cool.<p>

With everything happening and the medical examiner's office backed-up, Emily had taken the kids back to Idaho for a while. She'd arranged the funeral from the phone, relying on recommendations from JJ, whose connections apparently went beyond cops and reporters.

Being back in the home she had known for almost four years, the house where Charlotte took her first steps and Declan learned to ride a bike without training wheels, had had the effect of lifting a fog. It was easy to get caught up in everything in D.C., just as it was easy to think about leaving while Idaho was so far away.

Still, Emily had a decision to make, and she made it.

When she booked the tickets to fly back for the funeral, she scheduled the return for several days afterward. Derek Morgan was going to take them around to look at some houses, some of which Emily picked out, and some that he'd selected himself. Declan had mentioned that they were moving to Garcia, while chatting online during his first computer lesson, an online one. The next day Morgan had called, apparently he was quite familiar with the housing market in the D.C. area.

They'd flown in last night, and tomorrow she'd take Declan and Charlotte to bury their father.

Today, however, she was seeing her mother for the first time in almost six years, and speaking to her for the first time in almost five.

They'd never been very good at keeping in touch, and being undercover had made her ability to call even more sporadic. The Ambassador knew nothing about Ian Doyle, Lauren Reynolds, or that she had grandchildren. Up until last week, she hadn't even known that her daughter, her only child, was even alive.

"Emily?"

Her head snapped up at the familiar sound, and there was her mother, straight-backed and as serious as ever. Her lips were pursued and she didn't move, like she wasn't ready to believe her daughter had come back to life yet.

"Hello Mother." She smiled and stood up. To her surprise, Elizabeth pulled her into a crushing hug.

"My god, I thought you were dead. Everyone said you had to be. They wouldn't tell me why, they just said your last assignment went bad." The Ambassador continued rambling and holding her. "I yelled and railed and I pulled every favor I was owed, but they wouldn't tell _anyone_ anything. The idiots just kept saying how sorry they were for my loss."

"I'm so sorry, it just wasn't safe to contact you or anyone else," Emily said. Her mother finally released her, and held her arms as she looked at her.

"You look good, Emily. I was afraid you'd look like death after being missing so long."

"I wasn't exactly missing, I was hiding."

"From what? What happened four years ago, Emily?"

Emily gestured to the seat across from her. "Trust me, Mother, you'll want to be sitting down."

For once the Ambassador listened, and she continued listening, even waving away the waiter who came to take their orders. When Emily revealed her pregnancy, her mother gasped. "With this man's baby? This terrorist?"

"Yes. I cleaned things up at work, and then I went into hiding with Declan and his guardian. I gave birth on March 17, 2005, Charlotte was 7lbs, 6ozs, and I sobbed like a baby when they put her in my arms."

Her mother's eyes seemed to light-up in a away Emily was sure she'd never seen. "A girl? I have a little granddaughter?"

Emily nodded, and pulled a photo out of her purse. It had been taken two months ago, Declan and Charlotte sitting on the steps to their porch. She handed the photo to her mother. "That's Charlotte and Declan at our home in Idaho."

"Declan? You kept the boy as well?"

"Yes, I've adopted him, and he is my son as much as Charlotte is my daughter."

"They're beautiful, Em. I can see why you why did it, why you ran away and hid from the world."

She nodded. "No more though. If all goes well over the next week, we'll be living in the area by next month."

"Can I seem them before you go back to Idaho?" She was tensed, as if afraid Emily might say no.

"I was hoping you'd want to."

"You thought I might not?"

Emily bit her lip and looked away, before finding the courage to meet her mother's eyes. "Honestly, I was afraid of what you'd think of me when I told you."

Elizabeth didn't speak right away, and Emily squirmed a bit under her gaze. Finally, the older woman reached across the table, and laid her hand over Emily's. "I think I have a very strong daughter."

* * *

><p>The day of the funeral, Emily was nervous, and tired because she'd barely slept a wink. Her stomach was throbbing, and the kids' soft voices weren't soothing her like they normally might. Declan was dressed in a black slacks and a polo shirt, and Charlotte wore a simple black short-sleeved dress. Emily decided a four-person funeral didn't require formal attire, and the kids would have been uncomfortable in it anyway.<p>

They were sitting on the hotel bed playing while she finished her make-up. Her dress was cut high across the top, covering the jagged, messy clover on her breast. It didn't matter to her, she knew it was there, but it made it all the more difficult to sort out her feelings. She loved the man, and hated him too.

Emily lifted the gold chain off the tabletop, and slipped it around her neck, the ring settling just above where he'd branded her. Suddenly she laughed.

"Mom?" Declan had turned to look at her.

"It's nothing, honey." She was just realizing that she would never date again. Her last relationship was far too fucked up to explain to any guy. She didn't just have baggage, she had the entire cargo hold of a 747 jet.

"Charlotte," she called. The little girl came running, and Emily lifted her onto her lap. "You know what we're going to do now, right?"

She nodded. "We're saying goodbye to Daddy."

"That's right, we are." She didn't feed them any bullshit about him going to be with the angels, because if Christianity was right, Ian was going straight in the other direction.

Charlotte picked up the bottle of mascara and rolled it in her fingers. "Mommy?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Declan remembers Daddy, but I don't. Why?"

"Well Char, you never met Daddy. Remember?" Yesterday, she'd explained why Charlotte had never met her father - he'd been living very far away without any way to contact them.

She was not about to tell her sweet, innocent three year-old that her Daddy had been locked away in a North Korean prison.

The little girl nodded. "How could Daddy love me if never met me?"

Emily silently cursed her daughter for inheriting both her parents' brains. She bit her lip, then inhaled. "Well, when you were with JJ and Will, and I wasn't there, you still loved me, right?"

"Of course, Mommy!" Charlotte shook her head at her mother's silly question.

Emily smiled. "Well, it's like that. Even though he never saw you, never held you," she squeezed her daughter tightly, "never kissed you" she kissed Charlotte's cheek, "or rocked you to sleep," she said, swaying with the girl in her arms, "he still loved you with everything he had in him."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She said it without doubts. Ian Doyle may have been a bastard, but he would have treasured his daughter. Where he pressured and pushed Declan, he'd have coddled Charlotte.

"Mommy?" She asked again.

"Yes, Charlotte?"

When the little girl's head came up, she was surprised to see fear vivid on her face. "Are you going to go away like Daddy?"

"Oh no, baby. Of course not." She pulled Charlotte close and pressed a kiss to her head. "I have the two best kids in the world, why would I go anywhere?"

She found Declan across the room, and waved him over, ignoring the look on his face that was clearly telling her that she was full of shit. She supposed he had the right, she did walk out to her death, and he knew it.

Even so, when he made it toward them, she held his arm. "How are you doing?"

He shrugged. "Okay."

"Well, you remember what I said, right? It's okay to feel whatever you feel." He nodded and Emily pulled him close and hugged him too.

* * *

><p>They met Clyde in the lobby of the hotel, and took her rental to the cemetery. It would be only a simple graveside service performed by a Catholic priest in a Catholic cemetery. Emily harbored no delusions about the kind of man Ian was, and no desire to masquerade as if he were something more. However, she still cared enough about the man to honor his faith.<p>

She walked over the path and the lush green grass, holding both her children's hands. Declan was quiet, had been since they'd woken up that morning. Unlike his sister, he understood what they were doing, and he remembered his father. Even though not all of those memories were happy, some were, and it was harder for him because of that. Charlotte had been her usual talkative self until they got to the cemetery, but now she pressed her body close to Emily and walked silently.

The priest was already waiting when they arrived. They made introductions and he offered his condolences to Emily and the children. He seemed a bit confused at Clyde's presence, but they both ignored it, so he didn't press. She stood beside the box, a child on either side, and behind Declan, close enough to comfort her if she needed it.

Emily knew being there, mourning Doyle was probably killing him, but he didn't let on.

The priest began, and ran through an abbreviated version of a Catholic ceremony, which was usually a very long affair. Small children don't do long, Emily had explained that when she'd called. It was lovely, but rather generic since she'd given him so little information on Ian, herself and the kids. At one point she felt Declan move closer to her, and she held him close with her arm.

To her surprise, Emily felt emotion building up behind her eyes, and had to take a deep breath to keep it at bay. Ian Doyle was a bad man who had loved her, and shown her that in every touch and every kiss. He was the man who had looked at her as if she was everything good in his world, and he was the man who had given her two children. Those are things she couldn't forget, no matter how many times she reminded herself of the destruction and suffering he'd caused in his life time.

When the priest finished, she took the roses Clyde had held for her, and gave one to each child, and kept one for herself. She crouched, mindful of her dress, in front of Charlotte.

She smiled at her daughter, forcing her pain back deep into her mind. "Alright Sweetie, I need you to say 'Goodbye' to Daddy, and put the flower on top of the box, okay?"

Charlotte nodded. Emily stood as the little girl walked up to the box, and put a hand on it. "Goodbye Daddy, I love you even if I never met you."

Tears sprung to her eyes, but she blinked them away. Charlotte turned and Emily lifted her so she could lay the rose on the coffin. She turned to Declan then, who looked miserable.

Emily ran a hand over his cheek. "You feel whatever you feel, Declan."

He nodded and walked up to the coffin, laying a hand on it like Charlotte had. His voice cracked when he spoke. "I wish you could have been better."

He tossed the rose up on the box, and retreated back to Emily, standing close again.

She walked up to the coffin, her breath shaking as she inhaled and rested her own hand against the wood. She spoke softly, so the children couldn't hear. "You were a bastard, Ian. You were a bully and cruel, and I hate you for that. But somehow, you made me feel loved, and I hope for a little while I made you feel the same." She breathed again, trying to keep her emotions in control. When she spoke again, it was louder. "Thank you for them."

Emily set her rose on top of the coffin, the flower seeming to land with an unusual heaviness. A finality for which she wasn't quite prepared.

When she turned around, she started, mouth falling open. The BAU team was standing several feet behind them, all of them dressed in black. Without a word, Emily returned to her children, heaving a suddenly clingy Charlotte onto her hip, and taking Declan's hand. She nodded at Clyde and offered him a soft "Thank you". He squeezed her shoulder, and she inhaled and walked toward the BAU team.

"Hi," she said.

"We didn't mean to intrude," Garcia quickly said, her usual vibrancy subdued by sympathy.

Rossi nodded. "We thought you could use a few friends."

"It was very thoughtful, thank you. All of you, thank you for everything."

"There's a restaurant a few blocks away, best Manicotti you'll ever taste this side of the Atlantic, and you look like you could use a meal and some time to decompress." The oldest profiler eyed her.

Emily turned to the kids. "Are you guys hungry?"

They both nodded, so she looked back at the team. "Guess that's a yes. Lead the way."

Charlotte picked her head up from Emily's shoulder as they began to walk, and greeted JJ and Morgan enthusiastically. She nearly gave Emily and Morgan both heart attacks when she leaped into his arms. He managed to catch her with a quick of look of panic directed at Emily. She shrugged, as Charlotte hugged him and began to babble away.

Garcia nudged her, and nodded toward Declan. "You're right, that one is smart. Only gave him one lesson, and he asked a lot of really good questions."

Emily ran a hand over his head. "Yeah, he definitely got his dad's brains."

Declan looked up at her. "That's one of his good parts, right?"

"Yeah baby, that's one of his good parts," she said.

They came to the edge of the cemetery, and Emily's chest tightened. She glanced back at where they'd walked from, and felt a breath catch in her throat. Clyde stopped beside her, and put a hand on her arm.

Emily nodded and began to walk again. As she passed through the gate to the cemetery, the tightness around her chest began to loosen. She left her tortured past in a box in Mount Olive Cemetery, and found her future in an Italian restaurant, among the wonderful people who'd already become a part of her life.

* * *

><p><em>And this story is now complete. Apologies if the editing is a poor, I'm exhausted from being buried in school work. That's also the reason I didn't update until now, accelerated summer courses suck. <em>

_So, this is my last and final piece of the requests I got from when I wrote "This Must be Hell". Of course, this will not be my last Prentiss/Doyle fic._

_Per a request, I'll be doing a being doing a series of oneshots (twoshots and threeshots also possible) about the Prentiss/Doyle relationship while Em was undercover. These will be posted together, like chapters in a long fic.  
><em>

_I also have a oneshot from a prompt that should be posted some time this month. As always, you can find info for whatever I'm working on in my profile._

_Thanks!_


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